


The Royal Camelot

by CaseyStar



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF Merlin, BAMF Morgana, Banter, Betrayal, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Manipulation, Emotionally Repressed, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, F/M, First Time, Fluff, Friendship, Humour, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Past Abuse, M/M, Minor Injuries, Misunderstandings, Past minor character death, Pining, Protective Arthur, Protective Merlin, Rimming, Serious Injuries, hospital situations, implied off-screen euthanasia, intercural sex, minor character cameos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-15
Updated: 2013-12-15
Packaged: 2018-01-02 13:35:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 102,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1057371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaseyStar/pseuds/CaseyStar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin has just transferred from Ealdor General to a better programme at The Royal Camelot.  Unfortunately for him, this also means having to deal with Arthur Pendragon, son of the Medical Director of The Camelot and a princely prat.  For the most part.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rotrude](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rotrude/gifts).



> For Rotrude, fulfilling prompt 4) They're A&E/ER doctors with Merlin as the newbie and a lot of early butting heads.  
> With a light smattering of 5) Anything seasonal.
> 
> The hospital set up and training program is mostly based on the British system as it's what I know, but some bits are invented where my knowledge has holes and is covered by this being set in the fictional country of Camelot.
> 
> In the current system a person attends medical school, then has two Foundation years, and then has 6 years of training as a Specialty Registrar (StR) in their chosen specialty before becoming Consultants. So at the start of this Merlin is in his 4th year of StR so is 6 years into his 8 years of training. Arthur is in his 5th year so is in his 7th year of his 8 years of training.
> 
> As a side note, the implied past abuse is not of the main pairing and is only faintly hinted at. The Morgana/Morgause is a past pairing but it is mentioned and I'm trying to cover all bases. The implied euthanasia is in chapter two and is off-screen as having occured a decade earlier
> 
> Much, much love and appreciation to my beta, BB.
> 
> Over on tumblr [ kcsplace](http://kcsplace.tumblr.com), so come say hello here if you want.

Merlin Emrys was not a morning person. He had been assured by his mother and countless friends that he had many other wonderful qualities, his loyalty being one of them but when it came to getting out of bed or being prompt, it was generally agreed he was utterly useless.

And so it came to pass that in only his second week into his fourth year of his Specialty Registrar training, having transferred programmes to The Royal Camelot, that Merlin was running down the street, backpack bouncing uncomfortably on his back, throwing his balance off, piece of dry toast stolen from his flatmates plate in one hand, and shiny new ID badge in the other, dodging shoppers and efficient looking men and women in tailored suits, tourists and even a few exhausted looking colleagues, calling out apologies over his shoulder to the old man he nearly barrelled over, and hoping like hell it didn’t rain.

It wasn’t that he didn’t try to be punctual. He always had his alarm clock on the other side of his bedroom, atop his bookcase to force him to get up to shut the racket off. His phone was on the mattress beside his pillow, set as loud as it got, with both set off to blast him into consciousness minutes apart. He’d either been deafened over the years or he’d just become accustomed to the noise. He’d only woken up that morning because his neighbour had been banging against the wall, the obscenities muffled, but the sentiment clear. He’d grabbed the toast from the startled hand of his housemates one-night stand as she stood half naked in their kitchen, stuffed his feet into the first shoes he’d found and ran.

Throwing himself around the corner into the staff entrance, Merlin skidded to a stop to avoid getting flattened against the door. Slamming his card against the scanner he waited for the red light to turn green and the thunk of the lock to release. Shouldering the door open, Merlin sought to catch his breath, which was hindered by him then attempting to hang himself while putting his lanyard round his neck.

Merlin caught sight of the clock in the locker room.

“Shit!” He threw his backpack into his locker, shrugging out of his jacket as fast as he could and sprayed a little extra deodorant to make sure his early run hadn’t made him unpleasant.

Making his way down to the A&E he hung a right to cut through the pharmacy and gift shop. Only to run into wall of people standing a few feet from the pharmacy counter. Shouldering his way to the front, Merlin took in what everyone else was watching; A doctor was berating the pharmacist who looked terrified.  
“How stupid are you? I thought you were supposed to have some sort of qualifications.”

“I’m sor-”

“How helpful. Do it now.”

Taking in the effortlessly styled hair that Merlin was sure took longer to achieve than Merlin took from waking to leaving the flat, the broad shoulders that strained the coat the man wore and the thick biceps that filled out the sleeves, he sighed. He knew the type; gorgeous and knew it and thus was a right dick. Men like him never needed to develop a personality because no woman graced their arm longer than a night to realise that they were beautiful but shallow, boring and self-involved.

Merlin had had his fill of the type while at medical school and during Foundation and the first years of his StR training, and he’d apparently had something akin to a target painted on his back from the way they’d all zeroed in on him for entertainment when bored and hell if he was going to put up with it here as well.

  
If nobody else was going to do anything, then he would.

“Think you could take it back a notch there, friend.” He called out, stepping forward from the crowd. The irate man turned on him and his face was truly as gorgeous as Merlin had expected; piercing blue eyes, strong jaw, high cheekbones and full lips. It was a real shame that he was a complete privileged ass. Who, according to the ID clipped to his coat, also worked in the hospital.

“Have we met before?”

  
“I’m Merlin.”

“So we haven’t met.” The blond stalked toward him and Merlin was gratified to see that he was shorter and that he didn’t have perfect teeth. However, the man’s crooked canines somehow made him even hotter, the flaw oddly perfect as it made him appear slightly vulnerable. “And yet,” the man cocked his head to the side, “you call me friend.”

“My mistake.” Merlin retorted.

“Clearly.”

  
“I could never be friends with such an ass.” Merlin returned smiling sweetly.

  
“Excuse me?”

  
“You’re acting like an ass, like you own this place and yet you’re still just a Specialty Registrar like me.” Merlin threw back, flicking at the ID badge slung around the man’s neck, half obscured under the sharp lapels of his no doubt fiendishly expensive coat.

“And unlike you I’m an ST7, though I’ve been training for this since I was born.”

“And,” Merlin smiled sweetly, tone mocking, “How long have you been training to be a prat? I’d think you could give lessons of your own.”

“You can’t talk to me like that! I’m your superior,” the man spluttered, indignation warring with stunned amusement.

“And you shouldn’t talk to people like that,” Merlin jerked his chin in the direction of the pharmacy assistant, who stepped back from placing a small paper bag atop the counter as the doctor, looking confused as if he’d already forgotten the encounter, whirled around to look at him.

“If he’d done as I’d asked, when I’d asked, I wouldn’t have needed to.”

“So people have to ask how high when you say jump? Who do you think you are? The Medical Director?” Merlin scoffed.

“No.” An annoyingly attractive smirk twisted the man’s full lips. “I’m his son.” With that, he grabbed the bag off the pharmacy counter and stalked away, his coat billowing in his dramatic exit, leaving Merlin to hang his head, stomach plummeting to his knees. What had he done?

“That was amazing.” The woman the voice belonged to smiled at Merlin’s surprised start and held out her hand. “Gwen Smithy.” Her hand was warm and soft in his as Merlin shook her hand out of reflex more than anything.

“Really, that was just incredible.”

“Eh,” Merlin cheerfully lied, “he wasn’t that bad. You should have seen the interview panel when I applied to medical school.”

“Well, I know I could never be that brave.”

  
Merlin winced, thinking of whose son he’d just berated in front of most of the pharmacy staff and far too many patients. “Or stupid,” he lamented, though he could only find it in his heart to be somewhat rueful. He had promised his uncle he’d try his best to fly under the radar.

“Oh, and I’m Merlin. Merlin Emrys.”

“Yes I know,” Gwen pointed at the badge clipped to his coat. “You’re an A&E registrar.”

“And you?”

“Oh, I’m a genetic counsellor.” She nodded. “I specialise in Huntingdon’s, people diagnosed before they becoming asymptomatic. My mother died of it.” She confided.

“I’m so sorry. That must have been-”

“It was rough for her, for us all really, she didn’t have the sort of support that’s out there now.” She smiled, “People like me, I guess. If I make the ordeal easier for even one person, that’s worth it.”

“And you say you’re not brave.” Merlin praised, “I couldn’t do that.”

“I do what I can.”

“Well my bravery, apparently, leads me to open my trap and probably lose my job.”

“Nah,” she hastened to reassure him, “Arthur’s alright really. He just sometimes…”

“Gets an A star in ‘Ass’?”

“Yeah. But he actually is pretty good most of the time. You’ll see,” she assured.

“Well, I’d hate to lose my job, I really only became a doctor because of the scrubs. The fushia is really my colour,” he joked, trying to hide his fear.  
“The scrubs become you,” Gwen complimented. “Not that your normal clothes don’t. I’m sure they’re lovely and you look-”

“Lovely?” Merlin teased, grinning.

“Yeah.”

Her watched beeped and she checked the time. “Oh, I’ve gotta go. I’ll see you later, yeah? My dad owns the pub round the corner, The Smithy, and sometimes I help out there, so you’re welcome any time. There’s a group of us that goes. I’ll introduce you.”

“Great, thanks.” He gave her a wave as she ran for the lifts, her curly hair streaming behind her as her heels clacked against the floor.

Turning in the other direction, Merlin sprinted down to the A&E.

**** **** **** ****  
The Royal Camelot was a sprawl of buildings, like a city unto itself, a mismatched ensemble of architectural gems and post-war pre-fabs, connected by a maze of tunnels and corridors, open air walkways and corridors. Every unit was like a small village with its own dialect and customs that must be adhered to. A bevy of roads and pavements connected the lot, peppered liberally with white & blue signs, site maps and directions.

Merlin had worked at The Camelot just long enough to have learnt the shortcuts and byways that were least crowded to get from the pharmacy to the A&E, jogging past patients and rolling his eyes at people that thought doorways were brilliant places to congregate and chat.

Finally arriving at the double doors to A&E he swiped his access card into the slot and gained entry, taking in the now familiar corridor; a line of curtained bays down one side, closed off exam rooms down the other with two nurses stations situated one at each end, wheelchairs lined up in front.

“You’re late, boy.” The doctor who was sharing the shift spat at him, a short, stocky man with what Merlin suspected was a permanent sneer, dropping a number of files into his hands, scoffing at how Merlin scrambled not to drop them.

“Bay 2 sent here by one of the physios needs an exam for suspected cauda equina,” Merlin’s heart sank at the words; checking for the most worrisome of symptoms, reduction in anal tone, was always fun and some patients got really uptight about it. “12 needs an X-Ray on her wrist, 7 has got a case of D and V send her home before everyone else get it, and there’s thirty-three people in the waiting room, most of whom could just go to their fucking doctor, and yet you,” he jabbed Merlin in the chest with his forefinger and it was unfair it hurt as much as it did, “think it’s fucking appropriate to be late and leave me to do it all.” Which was a total lie; there was anything between four to six doctors on shift at any one time but Merlin bit his tongue.

  
“I’m sor-”

  
“I don’t care. Just do your fucking job and be on your way.” He bashed into Merlin’s shoulder as he walked past, fake smile plastered on as he pulled back the curtain of Bay 4.

“Wow, with skills like that he should be a pathologist.” Merlin muttered to himself.

“Yeah.” A young nurse appeared at his elbow, ably plucking the files from Merlin’s lax hands, organising them in order of need with barely a glance. “That’s Doctor Valiant West, he’s a second year. He’s big with Aredian.”

“Who is equally charming from what I remember.” Merlin shuddered at the memories of last week spent on shift with the consultant. He even claimed to be able to sense a person’s illness without so much as speaking to them. He came off like the bastard son of a southern preacher and a meth head, utterly convinced of his brilliance. He had the ego of a neurosurgeon and the bedside manner of a toad.

Nodding her agreement with a chuckle, the young woman gestured with the files in her arms at Bay 4. “What he lacks in bedside manner he makes up for with utter lack of charm.” She held out her hand. “Freya. I’ll be one of your nurses.”

“Hi, Freya. Merlin. Ah, Doctor Emrys."

“You ready to jump in, Merlin?”

Merlin glanced around at the barely organised chaos, counting the hours to his lunch break and took a deep breath, flicking open the top file and speed reading.

“Let’s go.”  
**** *** ***  
Hours later, after a morning that seemed endless, Merlin propped his feet up on the chair opposite at his table in the cafeteria, sighing with relief as his back was finally able to bend the other way and aching muscles stretched out with a satisfying burn.

Biting into his sandwich with relish, Merlin scanned around the cafeteria; His mum loved people watching, inventing ever more elaborate and fantastical lives for the people in a restaurant or walking by their shared park bench on a sunny day, prophesising their trials and tribulations, lives and loves dependent on a set of variables that made sense only to Hunith herself. The game tended to be more dour in a hospital setting but even here there were the occasional bright spots. A dazed looking man sitting in the corner, spoonful of soup frozen before his mouth was definitely a new father Merlin decided, who was still overwhelmed by the love he felt for his child, unsure he would be a fit parent and still awed at his wife’s strength.

The little boy with the fresh cast on his arm that was utterly unbothered by his new accessory as he scribbled happily with a multitude of crayons, was no doubt already planning his next adventure, cast or no cast. His mother on the other hand, still appeared shell-shocked by the reminder that her precious son was not impervious to harm and pain. She was definitely going to have to get used to A&E hers was the type of son that would use even the living room as his personal Olympic Games; fearless and adventurous. Merlin’s own mother had gone through much the same. Although Merlin felt safe in guessing that this mother wouldn’t slap a tubigrip bandage on her son’s greenstick fracture and say he was fine for three days before caving and having his arm X-Rayed. That was the problem having a nurse-trained midwife for a mother; she’s was great with other people’s kids, but was the ‘slap a plaster on it and you’ll be fine’ type with her own. Merlin still liked to tease her about that one.

At that moment a young girl shuffled past, her father pushing her IV stand. Her paper thin, dry skin, deathly pallor and complete lack of hair or eyebrows all spelt it out.

Cancer.

She was obviously weak, exhausted from her walk from her ward, but the look of grim determination on her small features was fierce. She all but collapsed into the chair at the closest table, her father fussing with arranging the stand and ensuring her canula wasn’t tugging and the tubing wasn’t kinked, adjusting the knit cap that had slipped from her scalp, running his fingers gently across her too thin cheek before she waved him away with a small grin. Her father set off for the till, ordering a couple hot drinks, repeatedly checking over his shoulder to ensure his daughter was still there, still alright. This wasn’t their first time through this hell, Merlin deduced, heart breaking for the brave girl determined not to allow her illness to keep her in a locked ward day in and day out. Nothing but cream walls and cream ceilings and cream floors would drive anyone insane.

Turning to scan the crowd herself, the little girl caught Merlin’s stare, frowning for a moment at this stranger’s intense scrutiny before he smiled. Her answering grin was wide, her assessing gaze detecting something in Merlin she recognised. She waved and turned back to her table before he snapped out of his stupor to respond.

“Who was yours?” Startled, Merlin dropped his sandwich, half the filling spilling from the bread.

The woman who’d spoken was astoundingly beautiful, the sort of beauty that was normally found only in magazines and movies. Her pale skin was flawless even without a scrap of makeup, a faint flush over her cheekbones, a strong jawline and full lips. A neat plait of jet-dark hair hung heavy over one shoulder, nearly reaching her waist, stark against the white of her nurse’s uniform. Despite her petite build Merlin sensed a strength that could bring down mountains if this woman wanted. It was her eyes; intelligent, assessing as their light green gaze roved over Merlin. When her lips quirked into a one sided smile, he had the sense he had been weighed and measured and, with a sense of relief, had passed.

“Wh-What?”

The nurse’s expression changed a little, gentling as she smiled fully, and if she had been beautiful before, she was stunning now.

“The person you loved, the one you lost to cancer.”

“How di-”

“We have a Facebook page, for loved ones of cancer sufferers,” she joked with a grin. “It’s in the eyes,” she continued in all seriousness, “How you looked at Stacey.” At his confusion, she continue, “the little girl,” jerking her chin in the direction of the little girl now holding what was probably a hot chocolate, licking whipped cream from her fingers with every sign of enjoyment.

“Oh,” Merlin. He looked down at his tray, startled when it was pushed aside as the nurse slid her own tray onto the table, settling opposite him.

“I’m Morgana LeFay” She offered her hand to shake, “I’m an HDU specialist nurse.” He shook the proffered hand, opening his mouth to reply but she beat him to it. “And you are Merlin Emrys.”

“Beginning to think there’s a picture of me hanging somewhere. Or there really is a Facebook page.”

“Your admittance to the programme set Arthur’s nose right out of joint, which is always entertaining. I heard your name more often than anything else for about a week,” she complained, though it was with a smile. “And then there was this morning,” Merlin winced though Morgana seemed to find it hilarious.

“Yeah, not my best moment.” Merlin blanched at the reminder.

“I beg to differ.” Morgana laughed, clearly delighted. “I wish I’d seen it. I made Gwen re-enact with facial expressions and accents.” She sighed happily, taking a bite of her donut. “It was beautiful. But not as good as being there must have been.”

“You know Gwen?” Merlin asked, wondering if this strange, beautiful woman was one of the ‘gang’ Gwen mentioned.

“I introduced her to her fiancé, Lance. He’s a lawyer down in the basement somewhere I think. He’s way too nice to be a lawyer but he’s shockingly cut throat when he needs to be. He’s beyond sweet but you’ll vomit at all their puppy dog eyes at each other. Their kids are either going to be so gorgeous the world will end, or really get screwed and be ugly as sin.”

“No in-between?”

“Nope. She invite you to The Smithy?” At Merlin’s nod she smiled, “Awesome. Maybe you and Arthur can act out this morning for me.”

Merlin’s heart sank. He’d hoped to be making a new friend in this place but apparently his big mouth had gotten him in trouble. “You know Arthur? He’s gorgeous but he’s a prat.”

“Since we were kids. His dad was married to my mum’s best friend so we pretty much grew up together. Dad was my person.”

The veer in conversation direction threw Merlin for a second. “The one you lost?”

“Ten years ago this Christmas. Cholangiocarcinoma, cancer of the bile ducts. It’s relatively rare and it’s a bastard. He fought really hard but…” Her eyes grew distant, unseeing of the blob of jam that dripped from her donut and somehow managed to miss the clean expanse of her tunic and hit the table. Merlin was distracted momentarily by jealousy; it had been him, that jam would have smeared down every inch of his clothes. Morgana cleared her throat, “That’s how it goes sometimes.”

“He why you became a nurse?”

“Yeah. My mum died when I was ten, so when dad got sick I became his carer. After he died I became a nurse. At first I thought I’d be an oncology nurse, dad had some amazing ones, but,” she shrugged, “it was too much.”

“It’s the wings.” Merlin stated.

“What?”

“My person was my best friend. He had Hodgkins. He went into remission in his late teens, but-” he shook his head, twisting his napkin between his fingers, unable to finish the sentence.

“He relapsed.”

“Yeah.”

Merlin gave her a tight nod and a weak smile; the loss of Will never really got any better but there were times when he genuinely seemed to forget, as if his best friend was just a phone call away, or if we turned right at the end of the road he lived on, Will would be mucking around with his junker of a car, oil and grease all over his hands, refusing to admit he had no idea what he was doing. When he’d gotten into The Royal Camelot, his first thought had been to tell Will even though it’d been nearly a decade since he’d died and he’d always felt moronic talking to a headstone.

“My uncle is an oncologist, here actually - Gaius Emrys - and I wanted to be like him, help save other people’s friends.” He shook his head, unable to quite find the words he needed. “But going through that every day, watching good people die slowly. The wings…my mother said it once and it seemed pretty accurate; the reason I couldn’t stay specialising in oncology was watching how the family and friends…they were wearing the wings of mourning long before the patient is dead.”

Morgana’s hand stole across the table top, removing the napkin from Merlin’s fingers and curling her hand around his instead.

“I always saw us all as the Fisher King. You know the legend?” Merlin nodded.

“We’re all whole and happy, and then there’s this wound, and it rips away a small part of us, and we can’t heal over it and it just stays there. It never really gets worse, but it never gets better either. You can forget about it for a little while, but then you feel guilty, like you’ve forgotten why you have it and it’s like it’s happening all over again.” She used her other hand to grab the discarded napkin and wiped up the blob of jam, tossing it onto the tray.

“But we pick ourselves up and we keep going. Because there’s nothing else we can do. We do our best to make sure they’d be proud of us.” She smiled.

“Which is why we’re gonna head back to work, we’re going help other people’s loved ones, and we’re going to all meet up at The Smithy on Friday. You live with Gwaine, right?” Merlin nodded. “Well, then apart from Lance and Freya-”

“I’m working today with her.”

“She’s a sweetie isn’t she? Then you’ve only yet to meet Lance and Percy. See, you’re already fitting in.”

“Please just tell me Valiant doesn’t fit into this group. Coping with Arthur is-”

“You’ll get used to Arthur.”

“Do I have to?” He asked, only partially joking.

“He’s…” she struggled for the right words for a moment, “he’s…uh…” she rolled her eyes.

“You’ll see.” Morgana said firmly, “He’s a good guy. He just has occasional problems with his ego.” She leant forward conspiratorially, “It’s Uther’s fault really. Raised him to be the Prince of this place, that he must always be right, must always be a leader.” She shook her head and rolled her eyes. “Underneath all that, he really is a throwback; noble, giving. You’ll see,” she promised. She arranged all the rubbish on their trays onto one, stacking them and standing up. “Give me your phone?” She took it from his hand, and quickly typed in her own number.

“And now, we must-”

“Get back to work,” Merlin sighed, picking up the trays and stowing the rubbish in the bin, leaving the trays on top. At the door they turned in opposite directions, Morgana walking away backwards down the hall.

“If I don’t see you before Friday, I’ll text you about the pub, yeah?” She called, managing to effortlessly avoid walking into anyone. Merlin, not trusting to have the same luck, wisely stood still and nodded. With a grin she whirled around and jogged off.

 

***** **** ***  
It’s not until he’s finally ended his shift, happily handing over to the night shift and changed into his own clothes to walk home, that his phone ran. Eyeint the rapidly darkening sky suspiciously, he answered it without a glance at the screen.

“Merlin, my boy. Glad I’ve caught you. You sound tired.” His uncle’s voice is warm and gentle, deceptively calm.

As if the reminder was a cue, Merlin yawned, the stretch in his jaw causing his eyes to water and he sighed down the phone, hearing Gaius chuckle.

“Ah, busy day?”

“Had its moments.”

“So I heard.” Ah, so that’s why he was calling. Merlin grimaced, mouthing ‘fuck’, hastily muttering a whispered “sorry, sorry, not you, sorry” at a passing old lady who took offense, presuming it was directed at her before giving up and ducking under an awning to avoid getting his phone wet; he’d forgotten his umbrella. Or lost it. Or Gwaine had done something with it that he’d rather not know about.

“I asked you, I told you to toe the line, keep your head down. And in your second week you’re yelling at the son of-”

“Yes, umm, about that.” Merlin knew from experience with his great-uncle that it was better to just admit to doing something and get it over with. “In my defence, he started it.”

“He. Started. It. That’s what you’re bringing to me. An incredibly intelligent, highly educated doctor in his sixth year of his residency and all you have is, ‘he started it’?”

“He was insufferable, yelling at the pharmacy assistant as if he owned the place. I’m surprised nobody has just punched him in the face, Prince of The Camelot though he may be.”

“Don’t you dare.” Gaius’ tone was razor sharp. “I know that Arthur can be…a handful at times, but part of your job is maintaining your professional-”

“I'm serious!” Merlin cried. “If anyone wants to go and punch him, they can go ahead. In fact, I'll give them a hand.”

“Merlin.” Gaius’ stern tone cut through Merlin’s hyperbole. “We all have our crosses to bear. Even Arthur.”

“It must be so tough for him with all the girls and the glory,” Merlin mocked.

“People expect a lot of him. His father expects a lot of him. He's under a lot of pressure.”

“He’s hardly the only one.”

Gaius sighed. “Please Merlin. Just try to get along with him. You don’t have to be friends, just…” Merlin knew his uncle was shaking his head at Merlin’s antics. “Two years. That’s it. Be polite, professional and it’ll be fine.”

“I’m sorry,” Merlin admitted. Not at all for his behaviour but for causing Gaius worry. “I’ll be better, I swear. But if he goes all prat-”

“Merlin. Even in those circumstances you will be a professional. Sooner or later you’ll be on shift together, and your patients need you to at least be civil. That is all that I ask.”

Grimacing, Merlin resisted crossing his fingers like a child to make his promise null and void.

“I’ll do my best.”

“Don’t think I don’t know that’s not quite what I asked, but I’ll take what I can get.” As Merlin yawned again, Gaius chuckled. “Now get home my boy. Get some rest.”  
**** **** ****  
It was another two days before Merlin was on shift with Valiant again, the other man as charming as ever, though Merlin managed to avoid interacting him for the most part, though they were only twenty minutes into their shift. He wondered how more patients didn’t hit him.

As Merlin administered morphine to a man who claimed he’d dislocated his knee and hip by falling over the dog, he hoped it would shut him up for a few minutes; the man was yelling and disruptive and driving him, and most of those in hearing distance, totally nuts.

Merlin rolled his eyes at all the posters that littered the walls advising potential patients that any aggressive or abusive behaviour wouldn’t be tolerated; he’d seen far too many people who were threatening and aggressive get treated long before those that were quiet and truly in pain. The patient he was treating had already had an altercation with Percy, the Head of Security that was guarding the A&E that night, only backing down when Percy made a move toward him, and his sheer size was no longer hidden behind his desk. Percy was possibly the gentlest person Merlin had ever met, but that shy personality as well hidden by his muscular physique and only the drunkest or most idiotic of patients actually tried something when they’d gotten a good look at him.

He glanced over at Valiant where he stood with a young couple and their child, Freya beside them.  
***** ****  
“We were in a hurry. Needed to finish giving her lunch. We’re moving,” the father stated proudly, bouncing his small daughter on his hip, the girl’s wide eyes excitedly taking in all the lights and bright uniforms, utterly unfazed by the situation, unlike her fretting parents.

“We had an appointment to view a house, and we were rushing a little but we wanted to keep her food schedule, keep her as calm as possible,” her father continued, “and I knew she was sort of playing with the tray on her high chair but she does that, didn’t think anything of it.” He grinned, as his daughter grabbed at his hand, bringing his large fingers in range of her mouth, her little teeth gnawing gently. “I changed her, I was paying attention to that, making sure she was dry and I saw she had her hand by her mouth.” His tone turned strained, eyes straight on Valiant as he avoided his wife’s blaming gaze. “Then she appeared to be chewing, but before I could get to her mouth it was gone.” He turned to his wife, her dark eyes worried but accusing. “I got her dressed and then leant on the high chair and it came apart. There’s a wing-nut missing.”

“She swallowed it,” his wife stated. “He,” she jabbed at his chest in a low his as their daughter swung around to look at her, “let my baby eat a wing-nut.”

“It happens more than you’d think,” Freya started, eager to calm the worried parents. “Nobody’s fault, accidents happen. It’s just what babies do, they explore at this stage with their mouth, taste. I swallowed more lego than you could count. You’re just a curious wee thing aren’t you?” she put to the little girl, “Just wanted to know what it tasted like.” She screwed up her nose, “Not very nice I’d imagine.”

“We’ll need an X-Ray, ensure she did actually eat it. And if she has,” Valiant sounded disbelieving and condescending, pushing Freya aside with his shoulder, “we’ll decide on a course of treatment.” As the parents looked to Dr Valiant, Freya frowned. They might be new parents but that didn’t mean they were idiots.

“I looked everywhere. I put that high chair together myself, with all four screws.” Lifting his little girl into her mother’s arms, he stepped closer to the Doctor, not aggressive, just imposing. He stood almost a foot taller and Valiant seemed to shrink back a little, his cockiness reduced a little. “Now there are three and she ate something after being in the chair.” Freya ducked her head to hide her smirk. She liked this man with his remarkable beard and bright blue eyes. He’d make an excellent Santa Claus when his child was older.

“We’ve already waited three hours, how long will it take you to organise an X-ray, and then get back to us? You clearly don’t believe my child has eaten anything out of the ordinary, so I doubt you’ll check the films very quickly.”

At the accusation Valiant’s hand curled into a fist unnoticed by the parents but not Freya, his jaw clenching as he held his tongue.

“I assure you, Sir,” the honorific was sneered, “that I carry out my work with-”

“Then why don’t you get on with it?” Gemma’s father asked.

Oh yes, Freya liked this man. A lot.  
**** **** ****  
“The X-Rays are back, and it appears that Gemma did swallow the wing-nut.” Satisfaction at being proven right passed over the father’s face before it was instantly chased away by worry and a guilt stricken look that he shot his wife. She was crying silently, hugging her daughter to her with such force that the little girl started to fuss, squirming against the hold, her little fists slapping fruitlessly against her mother’s chest, mewling in protest.

“What I’d like to do is admit Gemma for emergency surgery to remove the wing-nut. I really think there is no other option.”

“Surgery?!” At her mother’s shriek and even tighter hold, Gemma began to wail, kicking out against the hold her mother had on her.

“Sarah, Sarah, it’ll be ok. It’s going-“

“You let my baby eat-”

“Mrs Parker, Gemma is going to be just fine, but you need to stay as calm as possible so that she stays calm.” Freya stepped forward and stroked Gemma’s hair.

“There, there, you’ll be fine, yes you will.” Turning to Valiant she frowned.

“Doctor, may I have a word?”

“Not now, nurse, I’m busy. Call up to the ward and organise her admission.” Frowning, misgivings, Freya stepped away, moving slowly to the nurse’s station.

And spotted Merlin.  
**** **** ***  
“Arthur?” Merlin tapped Arthur on the shoulder, beyond grateful the man was still at the hospital, “I really need to talk to you.”

“You still haven't got it, have you?” Arthur stated, pulling his tee-shirt over his head and starting to tuck it into his jeans. “I outrank you, and so I decide when we need to talk.”

Merlin rolled his eyes, he did not have the time for this; god alone knew how fast Valiant would have that poor little girl under the knife. “Not right now.”

“Sometimes I wonder if you understand who I am.” Arthur reached into his discarded scrubs, digging around in the pockets for his car key, before draping his coat over his arm. Slamming the locker closed he turned to Merlin, pausing at his agitated state.

“I know full well who you are. You're a prat. And a princely one. But I don’t have time for this.”

“What could possibly be so different about today?”

“You’ve got to listen, Arthur. There’s a little girl in the A&E, she’s eighteen months old and she swallowed a wing-nut.”

“Yeah, and she’ll pass it. Don’t envy the parents though,” he smirked, “tell them they’ll have to sift through her nappies for the next few days to make sure it’s out and if anything changes to bring her straight in.”

“I know that.”

“Then why are you bothering me?” Arthur scrubbed at his eyes, tired and exasperated and beyond done with this conversation.

“Because Valiant’s telling them he’s going to have her admitted to carry out exploratory abdominal surgery to remove it. That that’s the only choice.”

Arthur’s head snapped back up, eyes boring into Merlin’s, already fumbling his car keys back into his pocket. “Seriously?”

“I wouldn’t lie about a patient Arthur, whatever else you may think of me.”

“No, no you wouldn’t.” Arthur agreed. “I believe you, if you say he’s potentially endangering a patient.”

“The mother’s freaking out and that’s got the baby freaked out and the father is yelling for a second opinion and she’s so small Arthur. She doesn’t need that sort of surgery. Freya showed me the XRay and there’s no indication that it’s causing any problem, and she’s so small-”

“Come on, let’s go.”  
**** ****

Freshly showered, clad in clothes that were actually clean, Merlin walked past the hospital that had sapped almost all his strength that week and carried on down to the next street, turning left and just as he thought he’d got the directions wrong, and it wouldn’t be the first time, he caught sight of the sign for The Smithy; a golden forge sitting within a fire on a black background.

From across the street, Merlin peeked in the windows; the pub was heaving with those desperately in need of a post-work-week drink. Or seven. Merlin wasn’t a huge fan of crowds, especially tipsy ones but he did like the people he was going to see and wanted to build friendships with them. He just hoped Arthur wasn’t there. They’d seemed to have reached a professional accord over their last few shifts together since they’d worked together to keep baby Gemma out of surgery, but he wasn’t keen on spending his free time with the guy. As he crossed the road and negotiated past a few huddled smokers that loitered outside in need of their nicotine fix, Merlin was once more grateful for the smoking ban. He knew plenty of doctors and nurses that smoked but he’d always been vehemently opposed and hated that his clothes and skin reeked of second hand smoke after a night out. He’d happily dodge a few people outside the pub and have cleaner air inside. He’d often wondered if it was because of Will’s struggle with cancer that he so hated the habit; he couldn’t understand why people would willingly take such a risk. It always broke his heart and also made him furious when he saw patients he knew to be cancer sufferers standing outside the hospital smoking. Will had fought so hard, done everything he’d supposed to, been fit and eaten well, despite being a teenage boy. And yet he’d died.

Shaking off his maudlin thoughts, Merlin stopped a few paces within the pub, scanning for a familiar face in the crowd before noticing Gwaine at the bar.

“Hello, Gwaine.” The man in question turned from where he was flirting with the barmaid and caught up his flatmate in a hug as if it’d been months since they’d last seen each other, not mere hours since Gwaine had stolen Merlin’s coffee to present to his one night stand du jour.

“Merlin!” Keeping his arm around Merlin’s shoulder he gestured at the taps. “It’s my round, whatcha fancy?” The barmaid grabbed another glass as he made his decision, reaching for the black Guinness tap before Merlin even said it, a smile on her face.

“Sefa, this is my dear friend Merlin. You’ll treat him right, yeah?” Sefa laughed, blushing as she finished drawing Merlin’s pint, casting occasional glances at Gwaine before smiling down at her hands.

“The group is upstairs, less crowded, has a couple booths we all fit in.” Gwaine dropped his arm to grab a handful of Merlin’s jacket, pushing him in the direction of the stairs.

“Don’t you need hel-” With a shake of his head and a glance at Sefa, Gwaine cut him off, shoving him once more at the stairs.

Laughing, Merlin turned to the stairs, taking them two at a time. He caught sight of the group immediately, as he realised, had most of the men and no small number of the women. The new friends he had made here were astonishingly attractive people; he looked down at his baggy jeans and button down and worried he wasn’t up to standards.

Morgana and Freya took up one side of the booth, deep in conversation, empty wine glasses before them. Gwen and a gorgeous man Merlin assumed to be Lance, given how the pair were doing the lovey-dovey stare into each other’s eyes thing that Morgana had warned him about. Merlin vaguely wondered if they knew other people were in the pub as well as them, let alone if they’d noticed him. Thankfully, no blond head was amongst them, Arthur not taking part in this particular Friday night out.

“Right everyone, ale for all!” Gwaine slid the heavily laden tray he carried onto the table, snatching the napkin with what looked distinctly like a mobile number and stuffing it deep into his jeans pocket, before stepping behind Merlin and grasping his shoulders, pushing him closer to the group’s table. “The Guinness is his,” he called out, slapping Morgana on the hand when she reached for it. Flipping him off, she grabbed a different pint, smiling at Merlin

“Everybody, this is Merlin. Merlin, everyone.” Merlin rolled his eyes and tugged free of his friend’s hold.

“Yeah, we’ve met.” He turned to the man on the end of the booth and held out his hand. “Except you. I’m guessing you’re Lance.” Wow, Lance got even more gorgeous when he smiled. No wonder Gwen spent her free time staring at him, Merlin would do the same thing in her place. Well, in public. At home on the other hand, he wouldn’t just look at Lance. Or at least not clothed.

“Morgana warned you about us huh?”

“Oh!” Merlin bit his lip as the whole table, even Gwen and Lance burst into laughter. “Ummm…well…yeah?” Giggling, Gwen shifted around, tugging Lance with her, who patted the area of booth he’d occupied, inviting Merlin to sit.

Taking up his pint, Merlin thanked his lucky stars that Arthur appeared to have sat out this week’s meet-up.

Until the bloody man pulled up a chair to the booth and sat down at Merlin’s side though Arthur pointedly ignored him, which Merlin was grateful for; he was appreciative of Arthur’s help earlier in the week against Valiant, and he was happier with working with him, but it didn’t always go that the enemy of my enemy is my friend. Arthur choosing to ignore him just made it easier to be civil. In Arthur’s earshot anyway. Thankfully he seemed lost in a conversation with Lance so Merlin returned to his conversation with Gwen. Which at the moment was more of a monologue as the newly engaged woman shared the story of how Morgana had introduced her to Lance, how they’d fallen in love and how’d he’d left to work in The Hague before returning to work in the hospital to be close to her.

He hadn’t so much as got a word in edge-wise which did have an unfortunate effect on how fast he was consuming his drink but when Gwen finished her tale with five separate apologies for how long she’d gone on for, he just laughed.

“I just never thought I’d get a chance with him you know?” She reached over for Lance’s hand and interlinked their fingers.

“My round?” Merlin called to the table, deafened by the requests.

“Arthur, what can I get you?” Merlin grit his teeth and turned to the other doctor, his voice the only one missing from the chorus of replies.

“That was much better. Not that it could have got any worse.” Arthur replied, looking Merlin up and down as the younger man stood. “Much more respectful.”

“I'm a fast learner.” He forced a smile as he grabbed up the tray, resisting the urge to smack the shit out of Arthur with it.

“I hope, for you sake, that's true.”  
**** *****

“Why would any woman in her right mind,” Merlin bristled at the implication against his mother, “name her son after an old man with a beard and staff?”

“Why do people always ask me that?” Merlin replied with ill-concealed frustration and even a little anger, banging his pint glass back onto the table, his beer splashing over the rim. Arthur opened his mouth, no doubt to fire back his witty retort but it’d been a long day, an awful day. And after twenty-nine years of 'really? You’re not taking the piss?’ he'd had enough.

Merlin turned to Lance. “Who were you named after?”

“My great grandfather. He moved his whole family here, escaped poverty, made a life for his children, for me. A better life.” Lance’s voice was thick with familial pride. “He worked himself to the bone, holding down three jobs so he could put food on the table every day. I was the first member of my family to go to university.”

“So you were named for an old man,” Merlin stated with no small amount of smugness. “Did he have a beard? Perchance?”

“Yes, moustache too.” Lance said with a smile and Gwen smiled soppily at him. 'You’d look lovely with a bit of scruff,’ she murmured as she cupped his shaved cheek.

Turning away from them Merlin with a shake of his head, he turned to Freya. “You?”

“Oh, umm my great-aunt.” She said quietly, seemingly embarrassed at being the attention of the whole table. “Old when I was born, ancient now. She uses two sticks because she’s too stubborn to use a zimmer, and she’d die before getting in a wheelchair.”

“Thank you,” Merlin smirked at Arthur in triumph.

“Has a bit of a beard now I think of it,” she offered with a shy cheekiness, a fetching blush staining her cheeks.

“Right. And you Arthur?” Merlin rounded back on Arthur, slamming his half-drunk pint onto the table, feeling Freya tense beside him, her little body shrinking back slightly in the booth, her hands dropping into her lap.

Freya, Merlin had quickly learnt over the past week, despised confrontation or arguments, hunching in on herself when she couldn’t escape it. The way she’d reflexively duck and raise her arms towards her head before she caught herself, had Merlin wondering what sort of childhood she’d had and fondness and love for his mother and her gentle heart, clutched his heart hard in his chest. They’d not had much but something they’d never had was violence or hurt. He’d never ask, and Freya rarely spoke of home and when she did it was of the geography, the lake by her house. Merlin sometimes wondered why she’d wanted to become an ED nurse, given the propensity for their patients to be drunk, stoned or aggressive, especially after an hours long wait but despite her delicate stature and gentle nature, she seemed to do well, flourishing under the praise of her Senior Staff Nurse, wonderful with the young children that panicked first-time parents would bring with colds and minor cuts and there was an inner strength to her that Merlin had been witness to several times over their many shifts together.

  
“I was named for my grandfather,” Arthur answered, coolly, before raising his drink to his mouth and taking a long, deliberate draw. Gently returning it to the beer mat he glowered back at his colleague, smirking at the ire he found in his expression.

“And he didn’t have a beard.”

“So he was an old man possibly with a cane?” The words were forced through clenched teeth, and Merlin could feel Freya’s gentle hand pressed to his lower back, feel the anxiety that radiated from her. He didn’t want to make her uncomfortable, to make anyone at the table uncomfortable and possibly alienate the new friends he’d been making.

“How is my being named after the great and powerful Merlin any way different to you lot being named for grandparents or people naming their children after their idols? Why is my name so hysterical to you Arthur?”

Merlin knew he was overreacting to Arthur’s needling, that he really should be able to let this go over the many years of teasing over his name, but Arthur was the type that just couldn’t let anyone else have the last word, and he was so good at pushing all of Merlin’s buttons. It seemed nothing he did went without snide comment, not even his name. Something he’d had no choice or opinion on.

“Is it the magic?” Merlin asked. “How many people have named their sons Harry? I’d rather have a weird name than be such a complete dollop-head.”

  
“A dollop-head?” Arthur laughed, throwing his head back in amusement. “That’s not even a word. Did you just make it up?”

  
“All words are made up, idiot. But I think it describes you perfectly.”

  
“Oh? So describe the meaning of dollop-head.”

“In two words?”

“Yeah.”

“Erm...” Merlin pretended to ponder, biting his lower lip. “Arthur Pendragon.”

  
Silence reigned as Arthur stared at Merlin, clasped hands resting against his chin, blue gaze assessing.

  
“Merlin Emrys, you can definitely stay,” Morgana raised her glass for a toast, clinking against Merlin’s pint and then off Gwaine’s when he raised his pint too.

  
“Gwen, you know what this place needs?” Gwaine asked in an attempt to break the tension, waggling his eyebrows at his friend, smiling at before he downed the remains of his drink.

Grimacing, looking like she’d really rather not ask, Gwen braced herself. “Dare I ask? Because if it’s a stripper pole or wet tee-shirt competitions, I don’t want to know and I’ll be telling dad to call in your tab. All in one go.”

Gwaine pulled out his wallet, and counted through the cash he had, stashing it back in his pocket after a little hasty math.

“Mechanical. Bull.” Gwaine leered at a group of women near the bar.

“Not what I was expecting,” Gwen admitted, “and at least people would be clothed.”

Gwaine looked hopeful as he waved at some girls by the bar, no doubt imagining what they’d look like riding the bull. Or him.

“But no. Not in a million years.”

“Why not?” He seemed genuinely confused by why his request would be turned down.

“If you don’t know, I will never be able to explain.”  
**** **** ****

“Um,” Merlin glanced at the tubing snaking out of the patient in Bay One. He snatched up the chart from the holder hooked on the footboard and flipped it open. “Re-accumulated pneumo after needle aspiration.” He took another look at the drain that for reasons unknown was in the man’s neck and was roughly the size of a hosepipe, the fluid bag empty which was unsurprising, even of blood which was quite surprising.

Stomach dropping and already suspicious of the answer, Merlin hastily scanned the page for a signature.

“Valiant.” Merlin grimaced. “Shit.”

“Is there a problem?” The patient looked panicked, eyes flitting between Merlin and the file, hand lifting to investigate the tubing in his neck.

“Please, sir,” Merlin said reaching to intercept the man’s hand, “please don’t touch or move the drain and try to keep your head as still as possible.” Merlin checked the placement of the tubes, trying not to frown and worry the patient further.

“Is there any pain or discomfort from the drain?”

“Umm, not really? Kinda throbbing I guess, and it itches but no, it’s not painful.”

“Okay, that’s good. How’s your breathing, is it any easier?”

“No, not really it still hurts to breath and I think it’s getting a little harder.” Merlin just bet it was.

“Okay,” he nodded with a smile, trying his best to reassure. “Give me a minute, and we’ll try something else.”

“Alright.” The patient trusting to his judgement.

Pulling the curtain around the bay once more, Merlin went hunting for Valiant, finding him looking over a number of X-Rays, pen tip tracing the line of impaction in the intestines.

“A word Doctor West?”

“I’m busy Emrys, as you should be.” Valiant waved him away like he was nothing more than an irritating fly.

“I am busy, fixing your mistakes.” Merlin bit out, trying to keep his voice low. “And I need to talk with you about the patient in Bay One.”

“And you need to stop being so dramatic and do your job, boy.”

“Right now I feel like I’m doing both our jobs.”

That piqued the other doctor’s interest causing him to turn him away from the computer screen and getting into Merlin’s face.

“Is that right?” His voice was dangerous, little more than a growl. “And why is that?”

“Drains for pneumo? They work better when they’re actually in the chest cavity, not in the posterior triangle in the neck. How you didn’t do damage to that patient-”

He barely had the time to dodge the fist that came at his head, though the pen Valiant still held raked hard along his check, burning where the metal nib scored into his skin as he staggered to the side, hand flying to his cheek, surprised not to encounter blood on his palm despite the burning pain of the sting.

“What the hell is going on here?”

Doctor Garrah’s voice was deceptively quiet but his anger was evident across his face, the consulant’s question still drawing the attention of the handful of staff that was close by, including Arthur.

“Doctor Emrys took a swing-”

“Except he didn’t.” Garrah turned to Merlin. “What is the problem?”

With a hesitant glance towards Valiant, Merlin stood tall in front of Doctor Garrah’s penetrating stare, the old man’s face utterly unreadable as he waited for an explanation. “Patient in Bay One has re-accumulated pneumo. The drain that should be placed in his chest to relieve the pressure is actually placed in the posterior triangle of his neck, the fluid is still applying pressure to the lung and the patient is beginning to struggle to breathe again.”

“Doctor Valiant?”

“I think my work has spoken for itself, and Aredian has had no problem.”

“But I, Doctor, am not Aredian. All you have shown, Doctor Valiant, is that your pride comes before patient care. You started a fist fight with a colleague in a full A&E after Doctor Emrys rightfully questioned your patient care. You risked a patient’s life with your incompetence. And it is not the first time in your two weeks here.” Valiant’s eyes narrowed at that cut, but even he was wise enough not to challenge Garrah.

“What would you propose?”Garrah’s voice remained even, face impassive as he questioned Merlin.

“I would suggest a small Seldinger drain.”

“If you would.”

“Doctor Pendragon,” Garrah rounded on Arthur, “Can you explain why Valiant’s work was not checked over by you as supervisor?”

“Doctor Garrah, that’s my fault-” Merlin tried to interject.

“Doctor Emrys.” Arthur’s voice dripped furious reproach, “I believe that the question was directed to me.”

“I just wanted to-”

“I believe you have a drain to insert, Doctor Emrys,” Garrah dismissed the younger man. Biting his lip, Merlin took a second or two to consider interrupting again, but from the fury in Arthur’s eyes, he took the opportunity to retreat, throwing one last look over his shoulder as he tugged the curtain back around the bay.

He was finishing up when he heard Garrah speaking over the white noise of the A&E. “And as for you, Doctor Valiant, you are responsible for this patient’s misfortune and I believe it is time that you and I had a conversation. In private.” A disembodied arm was thrust in through the small gap in the curtain, and waved up and down to attract Merlin’s attention, who hurried to grab the chart it held, hastily scribbling what he’d done and signing off. “Now.”

Tugging back the curtain he was in time to grasp a retreating Arthur by the elbow, and to catch the look of pure hatred that Valiant was directing at him. Jesus but that man was terrifying.

“Arthur-”

“What is wrong with you?” the other doctor hissed.

Nonplussed, Merlin stepped back, loosening his grip. “I don’t…I wanted Garrah to know he had it wrong, that I should have come to you but I went straight to-”

Stepping close, Arthur got into Merlin’s face. “I know you were trying to help me, in your own confused little way, and I appreciate that.” Arthur’s face and tone suggested otherwise, “but you’re not helping.” For the second time in as many weeks Merlin was treated to the sight of Arthur striding away, nurses and patients scurrying aside to let him pass.  
**** **** ****

The staff exit off the locker room opened into a charming alley littered with cigarette butts from staff members under the belief that cancer happened only to other people, chocolate bar wrappers, fast food cartons and the ever present aroma of disinfectant warred with stale piss and what Merlin really hoped was dog shit but wasn’t under any illusions.

Merlin frowned as he pushed the fire door open; normally there was a light about the door illuminating the exit at this time of day, and without it the world Merlin was about to step into was sure to be mere steps about pitch black when the door closed. He glanced around, peering into the darkness outside the splash of light that spilt past his body in the doorway, and the weak orangey light from a streetlamp at the other end of the alley vainly trying to fight the darkness. It wasn’t that he was afraid of the dark, he just preferred to be able to see where he was walking. Especially given the propensity for people to use this alley as a toilet. God, a tanker full ammonia and a month of scrubbing the damn passageway 24/7 wouldn’t be enough to begin to make a dent in the smell. Merlin huffed a disgusted laugh; millions had been spent on a beautiful, yet terribly designed main entrance for the patients, but the peons that toiled away inside got this.

“You fucking cocksucker.” The blow came from nowhere, hard as an anvil, knocking him sideways into the alley. The fire door slammed shut with finality, plunging the men into near darkness as the taste of blood flooded Merlin’s mouth, and he tried to spit it out and recover himself. He stumbled back into the alley wall, Valiant pinning him, world spinning.

Valiant grabbed at Merlin’s lapels, furious sneering face inches away from Merlin’s, stale breath laced with whiskey and vomit wafting over Merlin, making him wretch. Fear and anger warred within him and all he knew was that all he wanted Valiant away. He’d never been one for fights, but once one had started, he was going to defend himself. Drawing his head back he slammed forward, nailing Valiant hard on the forehead and nose, loosening his grip on Merlin as he howled, hands flying to his face to cup his face.

“Ducking whore,” he wheezed out.

Merlin pulled his arm back and let fly, the punch unpractised but powerful nonetheless as his fist slammed into Valiant’s cheek, his knuckles grazing the softness of Valiant’s eye. Valiant staggered back, tripping on something and fell against the wall, Merlin tripping away backwards out of reach, legs shaking as he pulled in lungful after lungful of air.

The alcohol that was coursing through the man’s veins seemed to dull any pain that he’d otherwise feel and he was clambering back onto his feet in seconds, swaying as blood spilled down his cheek, hand pressed ineffectivly against it to stem the flow. He struggled up to stand up straight, eyes wide with rage as he stared at Merlin, hand coming back from his face slick with red.

“You little shit!” He seemed surprised at the blood that smeared his hand, as though he hadn’t contemplated that Merlin might fight back, that Merlin would or even could attempt to protect himself.

With a roar, Valiant lunged, all raging fury and no finesse as he rained punch after punch upon Merlin’s body, each impact more agonising than the last as ribs and belly absorbed the blows.

Merlin’s own reactions were too slow, his instinctive reaction to defend rather than attack, knowing his own punches were too sluggish, too ill placed, the pain making it too hard to concentrate though he was aware that a number of his swift kicks slammed home into Valiant’s shins, causing him to stumble, giving Merlin enough time to regroup, to get a second wind. Valiant fell for his feint, easily dodging the clearly telegraphed swipe but lining himself up perfectly for the fist Merlin slammed into his ribs, a powerful kidney shot but before he could follow it up with another shot, Valiant shoved him off, following up with another flurry of punches.  
Merlin didn’t see the fist that knocked him down, just the starburst of fresh pain and flash of pure white as it connected with his face, the slap of skin on skin as his head snapped back, overbalancing before slamming into a pile of dustbins and falling to the floor.

As Merlin lay face down on the filthy alley floor he could hear Valiant’s footsteps growing closer, the other man taking his time to approach Merlin, drawing it out. Merlin’s head was still ringing from the blow that had landed him on his ass and the lack of air; the impact with the wall and then the ground had knocked the breath from his lungs. He lay gasping like a fish as Valiant bore down on his prone form.

The double clank of the fire door slamming open drowned out Valiant’s approach and Merlin tried to roll into a ball against any attack that may come, particularly of the boot meeting kidneys variety, breath shallow but the nausea and light-headedness beginning to fade, though fear made his blood run cold; he was on the ground, weak and exposed and unable to get up.

“Hey!” Arthur’s voice had never been so welcome. “What the fuck do you think you are doing?”

Turning his head, Merlin watched as Valiant wheeled around at the of the sound of Arthur’s voice, introducing his face directly to Arthur’s elbow, leaving his abdomen unprotected, staggering back as Arthur followed up with a skilled two-punch to Valiant’s abdomen, pushing the drunk man back and back as he dodged and weaved, keeping his punches low before grabbing at Valiant’s shoulders and bringing his knee up, crushing vulnerable balls.

As the man recoiled with a scream, Arthur stared right into Merlin’s eyes, the low light rendering his expression unreadable. The fog of fear and pain and adrenaline cleared for a moment and Merlin found himself struck by an inappropriate thought; Arthur was…frankly magnificent. He was like a lion, golden in the low light as he squared off against Valiant, the pair circling each other all coiled strength and bared teeth. As Valiant kicked out, Arthur lunged, tackling Valiant around the waist, knocking him to the ground but Valiant snatched at Arthur’s jacket to take him down too, the two men falling hard, Valiant reaching up to force his thumbs into Arthur’s eyes.

Pushing the heel of one hand to the base of Valiant’s nose, forcing his head back and punching him in the sternum, Arthur loosened his grip, only for Valiant to unseat him, rolling them in a mass of limbs until he had the upper hand, Valiant scrambling to sit on Arthur’s chest, landing a heavy blow to Arthur’s face before his hands wrapped tight around Arthur’s neck, Arthur’s breath rasping as he tried to get air.

“Your daddy going to save you now?” Valiant spat, flecks of blood spattering onto Arthur’s face, mixing with his own as he was choked, arms pushing ever more weakly at Valiant.

Merlin rolled onto his back, grasping his head with a grimace, using his feet to push himself backwards to the wall, trying not to think about where, and into what, his hands were going as he leant against the wall to stand and not to add anything new to the floor. Like the remains of his own dinner.

“No!” Merlin staggered over to the struggling pair and grabbed at Valiant, one arm around his neck and the other over his, stumbling backwards as he pulled, Arthur legs coming up to help kick Valiant away, the man smacking into the alley wall.

“Shoulda known,” he yelled, “fucking bastards. Fags stick together.”

Valiant scrambled to his feet, leaning heavily upon the wall as he tried to scurry from the alley, hand on the wall stopping him from falling as he made his stumbling escape, lurching with the grace of a drunken hippo. Merlin watched him go, relief blooming in his gut. Or that could be pain.

“Arthur, you okay?” Merlin hurried to Arthur’s side, wincing at the amount of blood running down his face, the adrenaline coursing through his system making his hands tremble as he hastily assessed Arthur’s wounds, hands smacked away with great force.

“I’m fine.”

“No you’re not.”

“I’ll be fine.” Arthur refused the hands Merlin held out to help him up, snarling at the hovering man when he tried to take some of Arthur’s weight when he stumbled.

“Arthur.” Merlin wasn’t taking no for an answer, slinging Arthur’s arm over his own sore shoulders and together they stumbled down the alley. He knew Percy was on duty, roaming the entrances; he’d find an out of the way entrance for them to use, get them to the staff room.  
**** ****  
Arthur sat on the stool Merlin kicked within reach, his shirt balled up in his hand, pressing it to the cut gushing blood above his eye, the skin Merlin could see already purpling and he knew the eye would rapidly begin to swell shut.

“Lemme see.”

“Are you always such a simple minded fool?” Arthur enquired, hissing as Merlin tugged on his hand to look at his eye.

“Doesn’t look broken,” he commented, cool fingers pressing around the socket. Arthur’s words seemed to sink in. “Simple minded fool?” he probed more forcefully than probably necessary across the brow bone.

“And that’s me being kind.”

“Kind?!” Merlin scoffed, stepping back to glower at Arthur, fighting not to wince at how his pain flared from the movement of his face.

“He could have killed you. Wasn’t it enough he got fired?”

“You think I started that? Is that really what you think of me?”

“You could have been seriously injured-”

“Looked to me like you were doing a good job of getting like that yourself!”

“You don’t think you two walked through this hospital looking like that unnoticed did you?”  
Morgana bellowed, taking in both men’s states, adding two and two together and coming to five as she swept open the door to the staff room, hands filled with ice packs and suture kits and bandage wraps that she swiftly dropped onto the sofa.

“What the fuck just happened? What is wrong with you two?” Morgana stalked to Merlin’s side, sure hands probing none too gently around Merlin’s nose, greeting his hiss of complaint with a scowl.

“It was Valiant,” Merlin groaned, nasally. “He got fired.”

“Yeah, I heard.” Morgana’s hands gentled and her expression turned concerned. “So, he blamed you.” At Merlin’s shrug and nod she sighed.

“And you?” Morgana turned on Arthur, eyebrows raised. Keeping his left hand pressing against his head, Arthur raised the left in a mocking flourish. “How much of what I’m looking at is yours?” her hand indicating the blood staining both of their clothing and smeared across Arthur’s skin.

Ignoring Morgana’s question, Arthur pulled himself across the room on the stool and rifled through the supplies Morgana had brought, awkwardly trying to rip open a packet of gauze one handed before giving up and thrusting it at Merlin. “I was just doing what you always lecture me to. Do what’s right and damn the consequences. Merlin’s ass was being used to scrub the-“

“Hey!” Merlin was indignant until he caught the grin quirking the blond’s full lips, the crooked front teeth a dull red from the split lip Valiant had so kindly bestowed and Merlin found it sexy as hell, though he’d deny it until he died.

“And this is the consequence,” he removed his hand, the blood flow from the wound sluggish now, replacing the tee with the clean dressing as he gave a quick rundown of what had happened. Sighing, Morgana tucked her hands into her back pockets, coming out with gloves, snapping a pair on herself and then tossing one each to the men.

“You always were too bloody noble for your own good.” Merlin frowned; noble? Arthur? He’d go more with arrogant and stubborn.

“I suppose I should have let him turn Merlin into his private punching bag?”

“It wasn’t that bad!” Merlin retorted, “I may not have been winning at that point, but that doesn’t-”

“You were lying on the floor waiting to get kicked in the kidneys.”

“You men. You’re all pains in the ass.” Morgana interrupted, slapping an ice pack in Arthur’s hand to hold against his head, another she tossed at Merlin for his jaw. Crouching down she took advantage of Arthur’s shirtless state to examine his injuries, deaf to Arthur’s complaints and claims of being fine.

“How does it feel to have needed to be saved?” She asked as she pressed against Arthur’s ribs.

“Yes Merlin,” Arthur’s voice was strained with pain, “how does it feel to be the damsel?”

“I was not the damsel!” Merlin objected, glowering over the arm of the sofa.  
“Actually Arthur, I was asking you.”

“Hey!” Arthur’s eyes screwed up in pain at his yell, moaning.

“Relax. You’re ribs are bruised but not broken, just keep that pack on and I’ll do the sutures after I check over Merlin.”

“Oh, no. Really, I’m fine.”

Morgana’s cold hands tugged up Merlin’s tee, causing him to squirm and hiss away.

“Just let me see.” Morgana chided, running her hands over the bruises blooming over Merlin’s ribs and stomach, ignoring his protests as she pushed him flat on the sofa to palpate his belly.

“Morg-ah ow don’t- Morg-” Merlin’s protests got him nowhere, wriggling into the cushions to escape the pain. Pressing down just under Merlin’s sternum, she looked into Merlin’s eyes. “Cough,” she moved her hands to bellow his navel. “Again.” She repeated the test over and over across the expanse of belly ensuring no fluids were flooding into his abdomen, apologising when she pressed down on a tender spot.

“You’ll mend. It’s going to hurt like merry fuck but you’ll mend.” She announced, patting his shoulder gently and passed him some wipes to clean himself up and some steri-strips. She returned her attention to Arthur, grabbing a chair and laying out the suture kit.

“I can do it mys-”

“Punch drunk? You’re so proud of your pretty face, wouldn’t want to suture it badly, would you? You might scar!” she ridiculed. As Morgana wiped over the deep cut around Arthur’s eye he clenched his jaw, the alcohol in the swab burning. She held up a hypodermic.

“Might want to close your eyes.” Instead Arthur found himself focusing on Merlin, on the jerking movements he made as he moved to the mirror on the back of the door, sterilising the wound on his lip before carefully applying the sutures. Normally the man seemed so scattered, constantly late and forgetful but the moment he had a patient he become competent, confident in his abilities. To his horror Arthur found it almost unbearably attractive which was unfortunate given he also found Merlin’s idiotic face gorgeous. Even now, with his face marred with bruises and his hair all over the place there was something beautiful about the man, fey and mysterious.

Pity he was a total idiot.

Morgana, finishing numbing the area around Arthur’s eye and wiping it over once more, didn’t miss where Arthur was looking. At whom Arthur was looking. It’d been some time since her friend had expressed interest in someone, and she approved of Merlin. He’d test Arthur, help coax out the man she knew he could be, to draw out the flashes of the honourable and compassionate man that hid behind the arrogance and superiority so drummed into him by years of public school. And Uther.

Placing the last stitch, Morgana once more gently cleansed the area, mopping up what little blood had oozed free to dry around the sutures before applying a bandage to keep it clean.

“I’ve got to get back to work. There’s some diazepam on the sofa too. It’ll help you get some sleep.” Morgana gathered everything she’d used and dumped it into the medical waste bin, washing her hands thoroughly before using anti-bacterial hand gel, unlocking the door.

“Thanks, Morgs.”

“Thank you Morgana,” Merlin called, tugging his ruined shirt over his head once more-he was going to chuck it but there was no way he was walking from here to a linen cupboard topless.

“Do try not to let this happen again.” It wasn’t a request and with that she was gone, the faint squeak of her trainers echoing down the hallway as she jogged back towards the HDU and to her patients.

“You alright?” Merlin asked, hand outstretched to help Arthur out of his seat. Almost to his surprise, Arthur accepted the aid, grasping the other man’s forearm and pushing himself to standing, impressed by Merlin’s strength. From the moment Merlin grasped his arm and pressed his other hand to the small of Arthur’s back, Arthur felt supported and oddly safe, which made him instantly discomforted so he did what he did best. Lashed out.

“I’m fine,” he grunted, trying to tug his elbow from Merlin’s grasp but only succeeding in making his head spin and requiring Merlin to help him stay upright.

“I’ll uh…umm get you something to er…” Merlin gestured at the blood ruined shirt balled in Arthur’s fist and then at Arthur’s blood smeared chest. And pectorals. And defined abdominals. God he really needed Arthur to cover all of that…gorgeous real estate. Immediately. Or sooner.

Looking down, Arthur seemed surprised by his own partial nudity. “Oh.” He suddenly felt cold, and extremely exposed, as if knowing about his shirtless-ness had awakened nerve endings that only now registered the temperature. “Yeah. Thanks.” When Merlin let go, stepping away and out past the door, Arthur wobbled, surprised at how much he’d been leaning on the other man, how much he missed his warmth and scent. And that was even more disorientating than the blows to his head. He wrapped the detritus of gauze and sutures into the shirt and dumped the lot into the medical waste bin before hunting out the analgesics, throwing them back with some water from the sink, setting aside a couple for Merlin. He ripped a couple sanitising wipes from the box on the wall and rubbed his chest and arms down, using another couple to clean his face off, wrinkling his nose at the smell and feel of the alcohol drying on his skin, leaving him itchy. He was finishing up as Merlin returned, drying his hands on a towel.

“Here.” Merlin placed the scrubs on the chair along with an empty patient’s belongings bag. He’d changed out of his own ruined top, and into a scrub top and jogging bottoms, his other clothes in another plastic bag. Between the brown of the joggers and jacket, the fuchsia scrubs were an eyesore that Arthur intended to tease him about later.

“Did I get it all?” Arthur gestured in at his face and body. Merlin seemed transfixed by his shoes, glancing up and scanning over Arthur’s body. “Uh yeah, yeah you did.”

“There’s a couple diazepam by the sink if you want them.”

“So, er,” Merlin shrugged, staring at the scuff on the toe of his right shoe smacking his lips at the vile taste of the tablets. “Thanks, um, for that.” Merlin nodded, wincing as even that movement made his head throb. “I, I’ll buy you a drink.” It came out almost like a question.

“Two.” Arthur slid his jacket on over his scrubs, wincing at the aches already setting in across his ribs and arms, dreading the morning. “Come on.”

“Now? Shouldn’t mix-”

“It’ll be fine. Not going to be getting drunk but one way or another I am having a drink.”

**** *** ***

“So, um thanks.” Merlin tried, following Arthur out, not actually believing they were going for a pint together.

“I’d do it for anyone.”

“Yeah but,” Merlin huffed a self-deprecating laugh, “didn’t think I actually came under ‘anyone’.” He walked smack into Arthur’s back as the other man stopped dead just outside the main doors. He had to jump back when Arthur span around.

“Is that really what you think of me?” Arthur’s hissed, dangerous as he spat Merlin’s earlier words back at him.

“No. No, not really. Just. You’ve…” Merlin searched for the right words, all too aware he was dancing on a knife’s edge, that what he said next would determine the course of not only tonight but their entire relationship.

“You hate me. I get that.”

“I don’t hate you.” Arthur turned smartly on his heel and strode in the direction of the pub, Merlin scrambling after him.

“Alright, you don’t like me.” Merlin said easily.

“I don’t know you.”

“But you don’t want to.” Merlin tried to lighten the mood, Arthur staring directly ahead, not so much glancing in Merlin’s direction.

“I didn’t say that.”

“You’ve never needed to. From the day we met-”

“When you were unconscionably rude?”

“Me?” Merlin cried, incredulous. “I was rude?”

“You interrupted a private conver-”

“Oh, it was not private! You were yelling at the pharmacy assistant in front of dozens of people.”

“Let’s just agree to disagree, yeah?” Arthur reached out to grab the door handle, grunting at the stretch, hustling Merlin inside and up the stairs, dispatching Merlin to the bar to get the beer as he appropriated the group’s normal booth, lucky it was a quiet night.

On Merlin’s return Arthur swigged back a quarter of his pint in one, Merlin taking a deep draught himself before spluttering in pain as the rim of the glass pressed into his bruised nose, spitting beer onto the table, before groaning. Arthur screwed up his nose in disgust, raising one eyebrow in reproach as Merlin hastily wiped at the wetness.

“Despite the fact that you are clearly robbing your village of its idiot,” Arthur gestured at the mess, “I respect you as a doctor. You did what you needed to protect your patients from unnecessary procedures and potentially dangerous work by doctors more senior than you.” Merlin fought down the smile of pride he felt at that. He knew from his short time at The Camelot that Arthur was an extraordinary doctor in his own right, not just using his family name to get where he was.

“But,” Arthur continued, “you’re also naïve and somewhat idealistic. Sometimes you’re reckless-”

“I am not,” Merlin protested, his objection less convincing when he faintly slurred his words.

“Not with your patients, but with your colleagues, those in a position of power over you. You don’t know how to play the game.”

“And you’re going to teach me, my Lord?”

“See? See! That right there.” Arthur was trying to sound disapproving but he knew he was failing; something about Merlin’s constant badgering and teasing and utter contempt for the hierarchy within a hospital was amusing, made him special.

“You’re Merlin, right?” A woman’s voice caused both men to jump. As a result of the swollen eye and resulting lack of vision, Arthur had to turn his body as well as his head to see the barmaid that had spoken who dropped a small zip-lock bag onto the table.

“Oh my god! Are you alright?” She asked, her hands rising towards Arthur’s face. Neatly dodging her questing hands, he smiled and assured her he was fine. “Difference of opinion with a drunk, that’s all. It’s all settled now.” He noted how she didn’t even look to Merlin who had equally obvious bruises. Sometimes, and he knew Merlin wouldn’t understand, it really was irritating how his looks attracted attention. Particularly of the female persuasion. Which he wasn’t completely opposed to, just not right now.

Merlin, on the other side of the table, fumed silently, ranting at the pretty barmaid loudly in his head. Just as he and Arthur had started to get along, yet another member of the Arthur Admirer Association came along, and no doubt within minutes Merlin would be drinking alone. But as he watched, he saw Arthur politely declining her advances, making it clear that he was there with Merlin before ‘helpfully’ pointing out a gaggle of men waiting for service at the bar.  
“What sort of person brings grapes to a pub?”

Merlin, caught staring, startled and looks down at the fruit in his hand before glancing back at Arthur. It was a fair question he figured, but it’d been so long since he’d had to explain to someone. Gwaine had just wondered if it was possible to make them into vodka grapes and then simply ignored their presence in the freezer. Unless of course he wanted to store something in it in which case they were the first thing he dumped out of it.

“They’re frozen,” Merlin replied, as if it answered the question, which to his mind it did.

“My mistake. What sort of person freezes grapes and then brings them to a pub?”

“This kind. I don’t like the heat and eating something really cold helps cool me down and it helps that grapes are amazing frozen.”

The only reply was a derisive snort.

“It’s not even that hot anymore.”

“Well, yeah, but I sort of like them so-”

“So you bring frozen grapes with you wherever you go?”

“Technically I didn’t bring these to the pub, Gwen put them in the freezer here for me. I like them and it’s not like they take up that much room but Gwaine tends to empty out the freezer to fit more vodka and gin in it so odds aren’t great of being able to eat them at home.” Merlin shot the guy a wry smile as he reached for another grape. “And I suppose I could ask a friendly newsagent if they’d mind if I just tucked my grapes into their ice-cream freezer, but that could be,” he waggled his eyebrows, “misconstrued.” The other man gave an amused snort as he took another mouthful of beer. “Well, that and the closest newsagent to the hospital isn’t all the friendly. I’ve always tried to be polite every time I go in, he’s always grumpy as fuck.” Merlin shrugged and then reached for another grape, emitting a moue of disappointment to find he’d already eaten the last one.

“Obviously he sees right through you. No man likes to be used for his refrigeration capabilities.”

“Could be worse,” Merlin supposed, “I mean I could say that I was only there for his Magnum.” Arthur snickered into his beer.

“Of course, I do mean the ice cream.”

“Of course.”

“You, er, settling in here then?” Arthur groped for a topic to feel the suddenly uncomfortable silence.

“It’s a big change, coming here from Ealdor.”

“Must've been hard.”

“Mmm. My bed here is like a rock.”

“I didn't mean your bed, idiot. I meant, for you. It must've been difficult.”

“Mmm. Not really, though life's simpler out there. Sometimes it was a little like living in a cliché; everyone pulling together, looking out for each other. But also everyone knows your business, there’s little privacy, no escape.”

“Sounds...nice.”

“You'd hate it.” Merlin answered easily without condemnation.

“Maybe. Maybe not.”

“It, er,” he figured he’d get it over with, no doubt Arthur would find out, “it also wasn’t easy being gay. Where everyone knew, everyone watching, everyone having an opinion they wanted to share.” He kept his eyes firmly on his pint, watching the bubbles zip to the surface, the head slowly collapsing as he waited for Arthur to reply, to storm out, to shout.

“Not very easy being gay in a big city. Well, bi. Well mostly gay. Different, but not easy.” Merlin’s head whipped up so fast he grunted in pain, the world spinning for a moment. Arthur met his gaze easily, no condemnation or anger in his eyes, small smile blooming.

“Is that why you left?”

“What?” he asked stupidly, still in shock.

“Why'd you leave? Why’d you transfer?” Arthur asked slowly, as if speaking to a simpleton. Which, Merlin supposed, he thought he was.

“Things just...changed. I was happy,” Merlin hastened to reassure his companion, “but, I don’t know, I guess I wanted more. My mother wanted more for me.””

“How? Come on, stop pretending to be interesting. Tell me.”

“I just didn't fit in anymore. I wanted to find somewhere that I did.”

“Had any luck?”

“I'm not sure yet. Maybe,” He shrugged.

Stifling a yawn, Arthur finished up his pint, Merlin dropping his own empty glass into Arthur’s when he placed it on the table.

“You gonna be alright to get home?”

“Why? You think I’m going to pass out on the way?”

“Well I hadn’t,” Merlin acknowledged, “but I’m thinking it now.” They made their way out the door, walking back towards the hospital in companionable silence. At the door to the underground car park, Arthur stopped.

“You ah, you need a ride?” Merlin was shocked that it actually seemed a genuine offer not an empty gesture.

“Nah, I’m good. My flat’s a couple streets that way.”

"Well, good night." Arthur muttered, reaching out with one hand to pat Merlin on the shoulder, drawing back when Merlin stepped closer, slapping Merlin’s arms away as he seemed to try to get a hold of Arthur.

"Whoa, what're you doing?"

"I thought you were going for a hug."

"Noo!"

"No."

“Ah, right. So, uh, thank you, for tonight.”

“Anyway.”

**** **** ***  
Merlin was reaching the doors to Gwen and Lance’s building when he saw Arthur coming from the other direction.

“Hi, you coming to dinner too?”

“No, Merlin, I’m the wait staff for the evening.” Arthur opened the door, propelling the other man through it and towards the stairs.

“The lift is right there.” Merlin veered to call one, only for Arthur to grasp his sleeve and tug him back.

“It’s only four floors Merlin. You’re a doctor, you know the benefits of a little exercise. You’ve never been to one of Gwen’s Sunday roasts but any chance to burn some of it off, you need to take it. No wonder you’re so weedy.”

“Weedy?” A mischievous grin stole across Merlin’s face. “Well, in that case, race you!” So saying he shoved Arthur away from the stairs, leaping up them two at a time, thighs pumping harder as he heard Arthur take up the challenge and give chase.

As they rounded the second floor, Arthur was right on Merlin’s heels, the younger man sticking to the middle of the steps to try and block Arthur’s attempts to get passed, but as they hit the landing for the third floor, Arthur used the bannister to haul himself up past Merlin as Merlin went too wide around the corner, the bottle in his inside hand stopping him from pulling the same manoeuvre , the pair neck and neck as they tore up the last flights of stairs, slamming into the fourth floor stairwell door at the same time before standing in the deserted hallway gasping for breath.

“Feeling all right old man? Sounds like you could get a little more exercise, take the strain off your belt,” Merlin darted off to Gwen’s door, leaving Arthur in his dust, not bothering to hold in his gleeful laugh. “Didn’t say the race was over; you hadn’t sung yet!” He called, further goading the other doctor into action, struggling to stop dead at Gwen’s door, not quite pounding on the wood.

“Did you call me fat?”

Arthur jogged to the door just as it opened, a harried Gwen inadvertently breaking up what no doubt would have descended into a wrestling match, quickly hugging them both before, divesting Merlin of the wine with appreciation before shooing them into the hallway to strip off their coats.

“Morgana’s in a cab on her way, Gwaine will turn up the second food winds up on the table and Lance got held up; one of the surgeons is being sued, and it looks like there is a good case against him and so despite it being Sunday Lance has been up to his armpits-” she shrieked and darted away, leaving the two men startled and confused.

“One of you has to get that out!” From the doorway, still shrugging off coats, the two men followed her gaze, they both turned to see the Crane fly buzzing around the lamp in the corner of the living room, the insect repeatedly rebounding off the lampshade as it tried to get at the bulb.

“Why us?” Merlin asked, recoiling, no more wanting to get near the thing as Gwen, though he suspected Arthur would never let him forget it if he showed fear. Or hid behind Gwen.

“It was you, you let it in!”

“Wha- how’d you decide that?” Arthur spluttered, looking down at himself as if half expecting to be covered in the horrible things.

“I spent ages catching the last two and throwing them out,” Gwen gestured to the pint glass and stiff card that still lay atop the otherwise pristinely laid out table. “Now you come in and there one is, buzzing away.”

“Maybe it was Merlin; they’re two of a kind. All legs, skinny, bumbling.”

“It was not me,” came the indignant reply from the hallway. “Repulsive things. And we’re not alike.” Merlin stalked into the room and gestured to the fly still gamely buzzing around the lamp. “Don’t see me slinking into other people’s homes, flitting uninvited into their light fixtures.”

“Well, one of you can catch it, it’s not staying in here and I’ve got to finish in there,” Gwen gestured to the kitchen just as a timer began to chime. “Ah, saved by the bell,” she sang as she walked away, the bow of her apron strings bouncing as she went, disappearing behind the kitchen door.

“Well get on with it then.” Arthur decreed, one large hand clapping Merlin on the shoulder and shoving him toward the hovering fly as well as the card and cup.  
As Merlin picked them up, he called over his shoulder, “How’s the cut?” He and Arthur hadn’t worked the same shift in the five days since Valiant, when they’d entered this unspoken truce. Arthur’s bruising appeared much as Merlin’s; the dramatic purple had faded to red midweek and was now a lovely olive colour that reminded Merlin of nothing so much as gangrene. Slathering on arnica every five minutes had helped though. Even if Gwaine had loudly and often referred to it as moisturiser for the shy metrosexual.

“Alright. Had worse,” Arthur replied as he settled onto the couch, sprawling out as he watched Merlin track the fly, smirking as Merlin muttered to himself as he went after it.

“Land, land, land, you fucker. Come on. Land.” The Crane fly quickly changed direction, flying away from the lamp and towards Merlin, who darted backwards, almost tripping on the coffee table and glaring at Arthur’s peel of amusement.

“You’d make a very comical manservant. Incompetent, but diverting. You’re being outwitted by a fly.”

“What’s going on out there?” Gwen called from the kitchen, suspicion lacing her tone.

“Merlin is providing the floorshow for tonight’s dinner.”

“And Arthur is being a princely prat again. Though I suppose it’d be more newsworthy if he wasn’t. Ack-” Merlin waved the card at the fly as it took that moment to detach from the ceiling and drop towards Merlin’s head, the unwitting insect being wafted towards the sofa and Arthur.

Who screamed like he was being murdered, scrambling onto the couch and vaulting over the back, disappearing from view with an almighty thud.

“What the hell are you doing in there?” Merlin could barely hear Gwen’s shrill query over his own laughter, doubling over with his need to breathe.

“We’re…we’re a…double act. Ack!” Merlin swatted at the incoming fly and then pounced as it landed, getting the fly under the glass. He leant down to look at it. “You,” he informed it, “are lucky I am not him,” he slid the card under the glass, careful not to snap one of the delicate legs, and turned to show it to Arthur. “Because he would have stomped on you. But I am merciful.” He nodded at the window behind Arthur.

“Make yourself useful.”

“Me?”

“I’m sorry. Open the window please, your highness.”

“If I open a window then more will get in,”

“Then open the front door.”

“But then it’ll be out there. Waiting.”

“Yes, but Morgana is coming.”

The speed with which Arthur stood and made his way to the door was amusing. His disappointment at opening the door to find Morgana reaching up to knock was even better.

“Oh.” Arthur sounded crestfallen. “Too late.”

“Hello, to you too. Here, hang this up.” Morgana slid out of her coat and slung it on Arthur’s still outstretched arm. On seeing Merlin, she looked a little perplexed before spotting the insect.

“Need a window open?”

“Cheers. His highness can barely operate a door.”

As she crossed the room, she called out a greeting to Gwen, who called back amid a massive clatter of pans. As Merlin quickly despatched the fly and slammed the window shut, Morgana headed into the kitchen.

“You alright in there?”

Gwen’s answer wasn’t audible but when the boys went to investigate Morgana was coming out, brandishing a corkscrew and the bottle of wine.

“Boys! Open the wine.”

Arthur snatched both before looking confused.

“Don’t worry, Merlin will help you.”

“Not-shut up.” He plunked the bottle on the table. “He,” he pointed over his shoulder at Merlin, “only coughed up for a cheap bottle of wine.”

“It was not cheap!” Merlin complained, embarrassed. Sure, it wasn’t a hundred pound bottle, but it was far nicer than anything he’d normally drink himself. He tended to average out at a fiver per bottle. The one he’d brought had been twenty-five quid.

“Really?”

“Arthur,” Morgana tried, sensing Merlin’s discomfort, seeing the hurt that crossed Merlin’s face and all too aware of Arthur’s inbuilt snobbery. Sometimes it genuinely seemed to slip his mind that some people hadn’t grown up with millions in the bank. Some had barely had hundreds. And she suspected Merlin’s family had been the latter.

“Please tell me you’ve had it before, that this isn’t some red vinegar.”

“Hey! It’s nice.” He’d asked at the off-licence for help, knowing Arthur would pull this crap, and needing the best bottle that he could afford, and the owner had let him try it. It was perfectly fine. “Why are you so sure it’s going to be gross?”

“It has a screw top. Not even a cork. A screw cap.”

“Don’t be such a fucking snob.”

“I’m not-”

“Oh,” Merlin mimicked Arthur’s accent, the grating falsetto simply to annoy him further, “this wine has a screw cap. I don’t even need to taste it to know it is an inferior wine.”

“Shut it.”

“I’d love to see your face if I’d brought a box of wine.” He laughed as Arthur grimaced, through his frown. “Oh wait, I know. Did you know you can now get Basics wine from Sainsbury’s in a plastic bottle?” He poured more wine into their glasses, nudging Arthur’s closer in an attempt to get him to try it. “You’d have died wouldn’t you? Just from being in the same room. Almost worth buying a bottle to see.”

“What are those two on about now?” Gwen asked as she came into the front room with another couple glasses, holding it out as Merlin poured her, and then Morgana, a generous measure.

“Arthur’s face.”

“I see,” though Gwen’s tone suggested she didn’t.

“He was accusing me of being a cheapskate bum-”

“I was not,” Arthur spluttered indignantly, reaching over to punch Merlin in the shoulder, narrowly avoiding causing Merlin to spill the red wine all over the cream carpet. He remembered how much effort it’d taken hefting her and Lance’s new furniture up into the flat, especially the living room suite. Taken about an hour to figure out how to get the sofa through the front door, and even if cream suede was a stupid choice, he wasn’t about to risk having to pay to get the couple a new sofa because he’d ruined the other mucking around with Merlin.

“Liar.”

“I was not,” Arthur repeated, “I was simply commenting that I had yet to try a screw top wine that was-”

“Up to your pallete’s standards?” Merlin asked.

"I didn't say that."

“You called me cheap.”

“I called the wine cheap.”

“Because that is so much better. You implied I’m cheap. We can’t all live in penthouses that-”

“Alright. Fine. Drink your wine.” Arthur lifted his glass to his mouth, before narrowing his eyes at Merlin. “You haven’t poisoned this have you?”

“And endanger Gwen and Morgana?” Merlin enquired, sweetness and light.

“If you wanted fancy, you should have brought it shouldn’t you. But my mother raised me right, so I brought the best I could afford.”

Arthur sipped the wine as if he still suspected that it was going to kill him though he seemed pleasantly surprised.

“It is,” he rolled his eyes at Merlin’s smug smile, “passable.”

“Thrilled for you.”

“So when is everyone else arriving?” Morgana asked.

“Lance just text to say he was a few minutes away, Freya has had to cancel which will excite Gwaine when he gets here because it means he’ll be able to eat twice as much. When he’ll actually arrive, who can tell?” Gwen ushered everyone to the table, “Sit down, sit down.”

It was only a few minutes until Lance arrived, looking exhausted and deflecting all the questions as they tried to figure out which surgeon was being sued and which patient but while they all agreed that it was Mr Griffin, he refused to name them.

“Couple weeks ago, had a cauda equina patient I had to refer to Griffin,” Merlin shuddered, “total asshole. Is it wrong to hope it’s him?”

“No,” Morgana agreed. “I’ve worked with his patients post-op in the HDU.” She shook her head,” some of them…” She whistled. “Not good. He’s a dinosaur, refuses to learn new techniques, opens patients right up, six or seven inch incisions that could have been done through a two inch. Just makes my life more fucking difficult, running around to make sure they don’t get an infection or pull a suture.”

Gwaine’s knock on the door occurred mere seconds before the oven timer went off, Lance getting the door and Gwen the roast.

“If it is him, he can join the Valiant on the scrapheap.” Arthur smiled at Merlin. “Father was particularly displeased. I’m surprised he stopped at reporting him to the Board and to the BMA. I thought he was going to disembowel him. Valiant will be lucky to get a job moping an A&E, let alone actually be a doctor anywhere in this country.”

“He’s a creep. And this way he’s away from hurting patients.” Merlin held out his glass for Arthur to toast. They smiled at each other before seeming to notice and scowling away.

“Haven’t been in a fight since school,” Merlin commentated, far more keen on the running away option or using his intelligence and wit. “Good to know I can still hold my own.”

“Yeah, your black eye makes you look so hard. Very dangerous,” Arthur laughed.

“Fuck off.” There was no heat in Merlin’s voice; he kept being surprised when he looked in a mirror at just how bruised his face was.

“You have problems at school?” Gwen asked.

“Yeah, I was the weedy scholarship boy, too smart for my own good. Being gay as well sort of gave them more ammunition.”

“No doubt your tongue got you in trouble as well.”

“You interested in what my tongue can do, Arthur?” He shot back cheekily.

“See,” Arthur pointed at him, “that. That’s what gets you in trouble.”

“If it puts you back into your place, it’s worth it.”

“You can’t talk to me like that!”

“If you say so,” Merlin smiled.  
**** *****  
“So, Princess not so bad huh?” Gwaine needled as he flagged down the night-bus, hopping up before the doors had finished opening. Left on the pavement, Merlin floundered for a second as he dug around his jacket pocket for his travel card, pulling it out with such force he almost threw it at the driver.

“Oh, sorry about that,” he apologised, red faced before scurrying to the back of the bus to sit next to his chuckling flatmate.

“It isn't totally horrible all the time.” At Gwaine’s look he clarified. “Arthur, spending time with him, it isn’t totally horrible.”

Even after Merlin shoved Gwaine off the seat and onto the floor, his flatmate kept laughing.

**** **** ***  
Day shift followed day shift and night shift followed night shift, the weeks filled with budding friendships and exasperated patients, learning the secret languages and codes of the various units within the hospital and starting to recognize the repeat patients, the ones looking for morphine or any other opiate they could con from the A&E and building good working relationships with the many police officers that were in and out like clockwork.

Arthur became a more permant fixture in Merlins life. They were on shift together more often than not and there was Gwen's dinners and Gwaine's parties. Which just descended into 'drinking each other under the table' competitions within ten minutes. Arthur was an unexpected lightweight, especially when compared to Gwaine and Morgana, though he wasn't quite as bad as Merlin. Somehow, they'd become friends, of a sort. Mostly they took the piss out of each other, winding each other up deliberately to see what would happen. Merlin still considered Arthur a prat but not a complete asshole like he's suspected. An unfortunate side effect of this increased time, was Merlin really noticing, and appreciating if he was completely honest, just how attractive Arthur really was. Which Merlin had no intention of admitting to anyone ever.

Before he knew it, Merlin found himself carving a comfortable little niche for himself, relaxing into the job and the city both, the traffic outside his window no longer keeping him awake, learning to tune it out to listen to the birds in the trees.

And through it all, The Smithy was where they could all unwind, packed like sardines around the largest booth the pub had, tucked away in a corner on the first floor. Shift patterns being what they were, and only Gwen and Lance having somewhat regular hours, it was difficult to get everyone together at the same time, but there was always someone around, someone to share the trials and tribulations of the day with over a pint, setting the world to rights. Slowly, Merlin and Arthur had developed their truce into a careful friendship, no longer tiptoeing on eggshells but still not quite sure of each other.

Merlin had begun to see the nobility that Morgana had spoken of; Arthur was gentle and compassionate with his patients, bravely standing up against the violent and aggressive people that filed through the A&E, protective of those he worked with. Sadly though, he could still be an arrogant little bastard, entitled and entirely too proud. And smug. And far too exceedingly aware of just how gorgeous he was. Which was a little unfair really as it meant Merlin had to fight his attraction to the idiot, especially when he was being charming and kind to his patients. Which he never really was to Merlin.

“You coud helpf” Merlin managed around the edges of the crisp packets he carried in his teeth.

“Yes, that, as ever, remains an option. And is, as such, not compulsory.” Arthur jested as he watched Merlin try to carry three pints and a coke and vodka without a tray and had the corners of five packets of crisps held tight between his front teeth, the bag fanning out and partially obscuring his vision as he made his way back to the table. “But this is better than TV. I’m okay with just watching thanks, not sure I’m into all that interactive television stuff really.”

Merlin dropped the crisps expediently on the table by leaning over and relaxing his jaw, raising an eyebrow at Freya who daintily used a napkin to wipe at her packet before she’d properly hold it to open it.

“Then it’s a good thing I didn’t bother with your pint then isn’t it.” Merlin placed his load down and then slid the drinks in front of Gwaine, Freya and Percy before sitting himself down with his own ale.

“Hey!”

“Hmmm bacon flavour,” Freya aggressively munched her way through her packet in record speed.

“Alright there, Frey?” Merlin laughed.

“Last patient.” She curled her lip in distaste. “I don’t know quite how his beyond-drunk, filthy hands managed to find my bum in the baggiest trousers known to womankind, but he was lucky the next suture didn’t wind up in his eye. Especially when he then tried to grope my…front” She took a slug of her drink, grimacing at the burn before taking a more dainty sip, missing the look Percy gave her, the enormous man’s hand’s flexing into fists. The Head of Security took his job seriously, and worked tirelessly to ensure the doctors could carry out their work in safety, free of such harassment. And he was very protective of Freya. As was the whole table, all disgusted by the patient.

“Or wake up tomorrow with an inadvertent P.A.”

“Nice,” Gwaine drawled. “Thought of getting one of those myself”, he announced to a silent and shocked table, the other men wincing, Percy’s hand slipping from the table as if to check everything was where it should be, un-pierced.

“Really?” Merlin asked, scared of the answer but morbidly curious.

“The ladies love it.”

“Do we?” Freya asked, facial expression suggesting the opposite. “Well, then I’d just have to staple a pretty row, what’s it called?” She thought for a second, “oh, a ladder? Yeah, I’ll staple a ladder down his prick.”

Normally, despite Merlin’s misgivings about her gentle nature being crushed by the unpleasant patients that trooped through the A&E twenty-four hours a day, Freya did well with their moods and behaviours, often calming situations just with her cheery presence. She never lost her temper, never showed that they were getting to her, never let her professional face drop.

“Not even the terribly tasteful and artistic splashes of vomit, blood and unknowable all over my shoes can ruin this for me.” Morgana announced as she plopped into the end of the booth, cutting off any answer Gwaine could put forth, stealing his pint and downing a quarter of it, while everyone around the table tried to duck their head under the table while shuffling away from her.

She tutted and rolled her eyes, punching Gwaine in the shoulder. “Not these shoes, morons.”

“Hey, you steal my pint and then you punch me? I think you owe me.”

“Really?” Morgana taking another mouthful of beer. Smiling, she leaned over and pressed a kiss to Gwaine’s cheek.

“Paid in full?”

“Hmmmm, not quite.” Gwaine made no effort to hide how his gaze dropped to Morgana’s breasts, smiling at his appreciation for how her scoop-neck tee showed off her cleavage.

“And if I get you a pint?” she leant over even further, pressing her breasts closer together, more than aware of their effect on men and finding it funny that they all started to act like gibbering morons in the presence of her chest.

“Oh yeah.”

“Get one for me too, Morgana.” Arthur ordered, grimacing . “Merlin’s too cheap to buy me one.”

“Or you just didn’t deserve one. Here.” She slid the half-drunk beer in front of him. “There you go.” She turned her attention to Merlin. “I saw Edwin getting cosy earlier.”

Merlin shrank down in his seat as much as the limited room allowed under the sudden gaze of everyone around the table.

“The nurse from Burns?” Arthur scoffed, scowling at Merlin. “What’d he want?”

“Merlin from the looks of it.”

“He did not!” Merlin protested. “We had a patient who thought it was a wise idea to hold onto a lit firecracker. He’s who got sent to assess him.”

“And your ass.”

“Gwaine!”

“What?”

“You weren’t even there!”  
“I know how Edwin rolls, and you my, man, are totally his type.”

“What, twink?” Arthur jeered.

“Fuck off,” Merlin gave Arthur the finger for good measure, and stole what was left of the pint in front of him.

“He’s…” Merlin shrugged, uncomfortable under the scrutiny, “uh-he was just nice alright. That’s it.”

“Did he ask for your number?” Freya piped up, snaffling one of the other packets of crisps and tearing that open to as if she hadn’t eaten in days and saturated fats be damned.

Merlin damned the flush of pink he knew was more than visible on his stupidly pale skin, Gwaine hooting with laughter at the blush.

“And Merlin here gave it to him.”

“Shut up.” Merlin took up an unopened packet of crisps and chucked it at Gwaine’s head, missing the expression on Arthur’s face, though Morgana did not.

“Merlin and Edwin sitting in a tree K-I-S-” Merlin launched himself out of the booth and slapped his hand over Gwaine’s mouth, fully expecting the tongue that smeared all over his palm in an attempt to make him let go.

“There is no kissing. He was friendly, and maybe, maybe interested. Probably won’t come to anything.”

“Do you like him?” Percy asked.

“I don’t know yet. He seemed nice enough.”

“What a raging compliment. How romantic,” opined Arthur, sarcasm dripping from his words.

“He’s the first person who’s maybe interested since I got here. So can we just leave it at that?”

‘Oh no he’s not,’ thought Morgana, watching Arthur carefully as he flicked at one of Freya’s empty packets of crisps, studied disinterest on his face.

**** **** ****

He was on a date. Merlin was on a date. With someone that wasn’t him. He was spending time, wasting time on someone that wasn’t Arthur.

Worst of all, Arthur didn’t know why he cared so much. Yes, the idiot was attractive but then so were a lot of people. And he wasn’t jealous. No matter what Morgana might say. If he were to lose his senses long enough to tell her that he might just possibly not find Merlin utterly repulsive.

A stiff breeze ruffled the napkin he’d been doodling mindlessly on, the autumnal chill biting, a promise of freezing rain in the air.

“Shut the door!” He yelled, not bothering to turn around until someone drew another barstool up close to him. Wonderful. Just what he wanted, someone with no personal space, most likely chatty. There were only four other people in the pub, playing cards around a table on the other side of the room. That let plenty of places of places to sit. And brood. Not that that was what Arthur was doing.

“Drowning your sorrows, my Lord?” Merlin’s voice cut into his gloom.

“What, why are you here?” Arthur blurted, frowning as he took in Merlin’s date attire; dark blue button-down with the sleeves rolled up to his elbow, revealing corded forearms and baggy black jeans, his normally scruffy hiking shoes replaced with chunky biker boots. If he’d turned up to a date with Arthur dressed like that, Arthur would have done anything to avoid Merlin leaving the date so early as to be in a pub with another man an hour later.

“No reason,” Merlin muttered.

“It’s something; you’re back so soon.” Arthur continued, staring into his drink, “Don’t tell me Edwin is that fast. Tell me.”

The sounds of Merlin shrugging out of his coat and ever present scarf, though it was only early September, were his only answer. Arthur swivelled on his stool to face him.

“Look, I know you have this idea that I’m the Prince of Camelot,” he bargained, “and that we’re barely friends.” Merlin conceded that point and nodded, “but,” Arthur continued, “I think that we actually get along. Better than either of us expected.”

“So?”

“So you can at least tell me.”

Merlin fiddled with his backpack, stuffing the scarf into one pocket, only to take it out and shove it into another, wrapping the cords of his earphones around his mp3 player and unravelling them, carefully rolling them up again to stow it away. When Arthur coughed he stilled, shoulders slumping.

“I, uh, I didn’t go.”

“What?”

Not bothering to prevaricate further, Merlin dumped his backpack on the floor and swung his leg over the barstool, looking around for a bartender before leaning over the bar to snag a packet of crisps.

“Remind me to pay for these,” he asked, ripping into the packet and offering one to Arthur first, who made a face at the cheese and onion flavour.

“Yeah, sure. So?”

“I didn’t go. Alright? I was on the way, and he sent me this text. And I just…I just read him wrong and felt hugely embarrassed and decided to save what little dignity I have left and spend a little time in my friendly neighbourhood tavern. And now I don’t know why I bothered given the first thing I do is run into you.” Merlin speech was becoming ever faster, tone strained, body tense. “Ever since I got here I feel like I’ve been running around trying to do my job and not make Gaius annoyed and make my mother proud and make friends and fit in and finally, I felt like it was starting to click and someone showed an interest in me and clearly I’m much worse at reading people than even you suspected so please, get it out of your system and I’ll call it a night.”

“What did the text say?”

“It didn’t say anything.”

“What the fuck?”

“It was a dick-ture.”

“A what?”

“A dick-ture.”

“He sent you-”

“A picture of his dick. Yes.”

There was a long pause. And then the bastard roared out a laugh, startling the card-players.

“You know what’s worse? He sent me six texts with ‘did you like it?’ when I didn’t reply.”

“Did…did you?” Arthur seemed to be struggling to breath past his amusement.

Looking Arthur straight in the eye, Merlin pursed his lips and shook his head.

“I can only hope he’s a grower.”

Their laughter summoned a man from the kitchen, his features somewhat familiar but Merlin was sure he hadn’t seen him at The Smithy before, his appearance cutting off whatever retort Arthur might make.

“Have you been waiting long?”

Deflating, Merlin smiled tightly at the newcomer. “No, no. Sorry, I owe you for the crisps too.” He held up the packet in his hand and offered one to the man.  
“Elyan, could we get a couple pints of Guinness?” As Merlin started to fumble for his wallet, Arthur put a quelling hand on his arm. “I got this.”

Plucking two glasses off the shelf above the tap, Elyan started to pull a pint, leaving it to settle half way through. Merlin had a moment of clarity. He studied the man as he finished the pint, expertly ensuring it’d cleared before handing it over.

“Gwen’s Elyan?” he asked, gratefully taking the proffered pint, and taking a gulp.

“Yeah,” the man smiled, resembling his sister so thoroughly in his bright and open expression that Merlin was surprised he hadn’t guessed it already.

“I thought you were travelling?”

“I was in Peru,” Elyan agreed, starting on Arthur’s pint, placing it on a new napkin in front of the blond. “But then dad opened up this place,” he gestured at the pub around them, “and Gwen mentioned it’d mean a lot to her to come back, help out for a little while. Christmas is coming up.” He shrugged. “South America will still be there.”

“Wow, I’ve never left the county before, never even been on a plane.” He thought about it for a second. “I’ve never been on a ferry!”

“You’ve never-”

“Never had the money.” Merlin wasn’t ashamed. He’d had a wonderful childhood with his mother, and he’d always known why she’d squirrelled away every penny; she’d been saving for his education. He’d still had to get a sizeable student loan, and work a couple part-time jobs but between his mother’s frugal lifestyle and the scholarships he’d won, he wasn’t nearly as deep in debt as some of his classmates. Besides, there were plenty of beautiful places in the U.K. were they could go for a quick holiday, and he would often visit his uncle for summer.

“When I’m fully qualified, I’ll have more money, pay off my loans and then I’m going to take my mum on holiday somewhere.” He turned to both men, sure that the Pendragon’s probably had holiday homes dotted around the globe, and with Elyan’s travelling, he probably had a few good suggestions.

“I was thinking of France, maybe? The south? Maybe Italy? She’s never been further than the Isle of Wight and I’d love to take her on the Tunnel, maybe a little tour of Europe. What do you think?"

Arthur had a soft expression on his face as he stared at the bottles of liquor suspended behind the bar and it was only as Merlin turned to Elyan that he remembered. “Shit, I’m so sorry, never mind-no, that was- that’s so insensitive, I’m so sorry.”

Elyan smiled, the same gentle smile as Gwen as he chuckled at Merlin’s earnestness. “Why are you apologising? It’s not a crime to still have your mother.”  
“I know-but-just…I’m sorry.”

“You love your mother. You want her to have something, to be happy. That’s the same thing as I’d want for mine. Would I kill to have the chance to take her to France or wherever she wanted to go? Sure. But I can’t. I can however help you choose the best place to take your mum.”

Arthur was still silent, though his gaze had dropped to his pint. Merlin reached out a tentative hand but before he could touch Arthur’s shoulder he spoke.

“Gigaro. It’s just outside Saint Tropez and it’s so much nicer. Quiet, as long as it’s outside july and august, beaches, snorkling…some of the best seafood you’ll have.” He looked up and met Merlin’s eyes. “My mother used to summer there.”

“You’ve been?”

“Not yet. Father prefers Paris. But one day.” Arthur took a long drink of his pint, setting the empty glass down. “What about you, Elyan, where’d you suggest?”

“Well,” he took up Arthur’s glass and gestured to the tap, starting to refill it at Arthur’s nod. “I’ve mostly done the more exotic locales; Tibet, Thailand, South America, but I think there’s a few places closer to home that you could start with. Ever been to Belgium Arthur?”

“Oh, that’s a good one,” he turned to Merlin, light in his eyes once more. “Bruges is gorgeous. You can get the Tunnel to Paris, then another train to Bruges. It’s this sleepy, town, beautiful architecture and the people are some of the nicest you’ll ever meet. Lots of canals, the scenery is…yes, definitely Bruges has to be on the list.”

“There’s a list now?” laughed Merlin.”

“Of course. This is your mother, Merlin. Can’t just take her to France and be done. No, there’s a list. Elyan,” he pointed at the pad of paper sticking out the man’s jeans pocket. “Could I have a piece of paper? Oh and a pen.”

After checking if the card players needed any drinks and delivering fresh ones, Elyan pulled his own pint and settled on a bar stool next to Merlin, the trio getting down to the serious business of showing Hunith, and Merlin, the world.

**** *** ***  
“You’re smiling,” Arthur’s tone was smug but soft.

“Yeah. Tonight wasn’t so bad.” Merlin admitted, gently folding the mass of papers they’d been working on for the past few hours and carefully stowing them in his jacket pocket.

Arthur preened, running his hand through his hair, the dishevelled look suiting him. “Well, you’re ending your night with me, of course it’s going to be a good time.”

“You are a regular Prince Charming,” Merlin retorted, then quickly, to cover the sincerity that had crept into his tone, “though really, I think anyone could have bought me a pint and I’d be fine. It’s not like the date was a big deal or anything.”

Arthur bumped into him, sending him careening off the pavement and into the, thankfully deserted, road, stumbling for a few steps until he regained his balance. “And yet you soothed your broken heart by crying on my shoulder.”

“There was no crying!” Merlin exclaimed jumping back onto the pavement and shoving at Arthur, successful in having him trip, though the clotpole was laughing as he regained his balance with the help of a garden wall. “And there was no broken heart. Do you ever actually listen to the real world or just the voices in your head?

“Anyway, I don’t think dating is for me right now.” Merlin announced, seriousness lacing his tone despite his smile.

“Hmmm.” Arthur steadfastly refused to contemplate why that idea was so appealing to him.

“Hmmm?”

The chime of Merlin’s phone saved him from any answer he’d have to invent.

“Oh-oh God-Gwaine! No not necessary. Haven’t I suffered enough?” Merlin was shielding his eyes from whatever was on the screen, so Arthur snatched up his phone. And regretted it immediately.

“Is that?”

“Yes.”

“And who is-”

“Don’t know.”

“Where-“

“Kitchen table.”

The words were out before he could stop them. “Want to crash at mine? Got a spare toothbrush somewhere, and there’s plenty of room.”

His offer was met with stunned silence, Merlin blinking at him in shock.

“You sure, I mean, you don’t just have to be nice-”

“Wouldn’t have asked if I wasn’t sure. You want to go home to this?” he held the screen in Merlin’s face, the close up view of Gwaine and his friend of the evening in bright Technicolor.

“Noooo.”

“Then come on, I’m parked at the hospital.”

“Do you think I should send Edwi-”

“To Gwaine? Fuck yes! That’s the payment I want for taking the waif and stray home, you have to send the dic-ture.”

Merlin wrote out the text in such a rush, he misspelt half of it at first, so looking forward to his revenge.

“What’s taking so long?”

“I’m trying to ensure he doesn’t think it’s mine or that I saw it in person.”

“Yeeeaahh, good call,” Arthur nodded as he pressed the button to unlock his car, the hazards flashing briefly. As they slid into the car Merlin’s phone chimed with the reply.

As bachelor pad man-cave’s went, Arthur’s was nothing like what Merlin had thought. He’d imagined lots of dark leather, wood panelling and chrome, the latest gadgets filling each room and an enormous plasma screen television. The reality, as Merlin wandered through the upstairs of the duplex in search of a toilet was very different. The only similarity was that the flat was huge, high ceilings giving the penthouse even greater aura of space.

Trotting back down the stairs again, Merlin went in search of Arthur, following the scent of toasting bread. Strolling down the hallway he got distracted by the living room. The walls were a warm cream, though Merlin was sure it had some ridiculous name comparing it to eggshells in warm sunlight or some such nonsense, where what appeared to be a tapestry of a golden dragon rearing upon a deep red background which Merlin assumed to be a light-hearted play on the Pendragon name hung. Bookshelves lined two walls, floor to ceiling with every shelf stuffed full of medical texts and journals down one wall, the other devoted to fiction of a variety of genres.

Merlin spent a happy five minutes investigating the contents of the shelves, intrigued by a number of recent publications from the BMJ, the temptation to sink into one of the overstuffed armchairs with a journal almost overwhelming. The television mounted on the third wall beside the tapestry was far more modest in size that Merlin would have anticipated and though the sound system it was hooked up to seemed complicated it appeared hardly new. The game station accoutrements littered on the floor nearly hidden behind a couch indicated a model far from the latest release.

“You done rifling through my things in there?” Arthur called from the kitchen, causing Merlin to jump. “Cos there’s beer in here.”

“I was not rifling,” he denied, casting one last longing look at the journal in his hand before returning it to the shelf and heading towards the kitchen.  
**** ***** ***  
Smacking his lips Merlin ran his tongue over his teeth, nose wrinkling at the feel of grime coating his mouth. He propped himself up on an elbow, turning towards the curtains. Why were they cream? His curtains were brown, weren’t they? He flopped back into the pillows, grateful that the world didn’t spin given how much his head hurt. When the throbbing dialled it down a little he groaned and rolled out of the bed before stumbling to his feet, looking around blearily, blinking at the furniture that wasn’t his own. Where the hell was he? Had he…no, there’d been no late night pickup; he didn’t feel morning-after like and he’d been pretty much centre of the bed. There was no one else’s clothes on the floor except his own which was faintly reassuring, but the pyjama bottoms he wore were not his own, which was not. Opening the door Merlin caught sight of the floor to ceiling windows and remembered where he was.

“Oh right,” Merlin muttered, transfixed by the view over Camelot, how the sun flashed off the river, the colourful tour boats speeding past the dull tugs and barges, packed to the gills with tourists despite the early hour. Stepping closer Merlin pressed his hands against the cool glass and stared unabashedly at the sky, at a cloud that almost looked like a horse if he squinted, watching as it transformed and blended before breaking up. God, to have this view every day, that’d be worth putting up with the prat.

Speaking of, where was he? Surely he didn’t trust Merlin enough to go out and leave Merlin here with his things. Did he? They were friends now, of a kind, but they weren’t at the ‘here are all of my possessions, please kick back and relax while I fuck off out’ level yet. Where they?

Stomach growling, Merlin stepped back, cringing at the smudged handprints he’d left on the otherwise pristine glass. Curling his hand into the hem of his tee-shirt he wiped ineffectually at the marks, smearing a much larger area, peering over his shoulder, convinced that Arthur would appear just then but seeing an empty room he just nodded, cocked his head at the mess he’d made and walked away, quietly whistling to himself.

Arthur wasn’t in the kitchen, and the remains of the beer they’d consumed with their late night snack still scattered the countertop which he quickly cleared away and upon opening the massive fridge Merlin was concerned about what he could or, indeed, should eat. He recognised almost none of the packaging, but then he was mostly a Sainsbury’s Basics kind of guy. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been able to afford an actual brand name item. Which meant he had no idea how much anything in that fridge cost and if Arthur demanded recompense he’d be screwed. With a longing glance at the cheese board, and who the hell under fifty had a cheese board, Merlin let the door close and snagged an apple from the bowl on the table which would satisfy him for the time being, juice flowing down his chin as he bit into it.

“Great,” Merlin mumbled around the mouthful and set off in search of his erstwhile host, trailing his fingers along the walls as he went.

Investigating the few remaining rooms in the flat didn’t find him Arthur but did lend credence to Morgana’s insistence that Arthur was not just the spoilt brat he appeared to be. There were photos of under 10’s football he’d coached, crayon drawings gifted from grateful patients, particularly treasured thank you cards in gilt frames.

Knocking on what Merlin assumed was the master bedroom, Merlin poked his head around the corner. “Yup, Arthur’s room.” Merlin took in the subtle opulence of the room, the quality of the furniture, the deep red linens. Arthur wasn’t anywhere near as messy as Merlin had assumed he would be. But then he probably had a maid to keep his home tidy.

“Where is-” Stepping into the room proper, Merlin saw the other door, and heard the tell-tale sounds of a shower, the musk scented steam curling under the door, the aroma that which Merlin always associated with Arthur.

He knocked on the door again.

And waited.

Then just barged on in. If Arthur couldn’t hear him knocking, then he’d surely not hear him grabbing a toothbrush.

Merlin’s mouth fell open in shock, though he rolled his eyes at the lavish room. The bath against the back wall was the size of a pool. He briefly wondered at the engineering and architecture required for it not to fall through the floor when it was full. With someone in it. With two someones in it. Lying together in the hot water, washing each other, touching and teasing.

Ripping his eyes away from the temptation, his gaze fell on a sight much worse. But so much better. Only a fogged up glass door and clouds of steam obscured Arthur’s naked body. The rhythm of the water slapping against tile changed, Arthur’s body blocking it first in its free-fall. What did he look like, water sluicing down that chest of his, chest hair dark, nipples peaked, skin flushed pink from the heat-

_‘Stop it. Stop it. He’s your friend, sort of, that’s rude. Stop it. Just find the damn toothbrush. You’re in here now.’_

Turning towards the countertop running along the wall opposite the shower, Merlin investigated the cupboards beneath, finding spare towels, unopened shampoo and conditioner bottles, and finally a couple toothbrushes in their packages. Fumbling with the cardboard backing, tossing the annoying stuff into the small wicker basket, Merlin searched by the sink, the marble slab littered with the amount of products and lotions that Merlin would have expected from Morgana, most of which he didn’t’ recognise.

Focused on finding the toothpaste Merlin didn’t notice the water turning off until the squeak of the shower’s glass door opening had him turning around. To see Arthur completely nude as he stepped out, steam billowing around him as water droplets slid trails from the tips of his hair onto his chest and down to his chest, down, down-

“What the fuck?!” Arthur grabbed the towel slung over the door handle, wrapping it hastily around his waist as Merlin lost his balance, falling backwards to bump his head on the edge of an adjustable shaving mirror.

“Ow.” He dropped the toothpaste to rub at the sore spot on his skull.

“How long were you there?” Arthur demanded.

Confused, Merlin looked around. “Um, I never left.”

Arthur sighed, every inch the put upon man. “Not here in the flat, moron, here in the bathroom.”

“Oh I dunno. A minute, maybe. No longer than that.”

“Sure? Cos if you were…”

“Yeah, I’m sure. Maybe,” Merlin hedged. “Why are you so-” it clicked into place, the sounds, the water, the red face.

“Oooooh,” he drawled, smile splitting his face wide. “I see, you needed some privacy,” he breathed, hand making a crude gesture.

Arthur looked shocked and broke eye contact by looking down to tighten his towel more securely around his waist, spluttering “No I was not-” he broke off, mimicking Merlin’s earlier gesture.

“If you say so,” Merlin laughed, lobbing the apple core into the bin beside the toilet.

“Why are you even in here,” Arthur snapped.

“What?” Merlin wrenched his gaze from those narrow hips, the towel one good yank from falling to the floor, Merlin’s mind automatically listing the textbook perfect examples of abdominal muscles that Arthur sported. It was just as he’d imagined; arms thick and heavy with muscle, barrelled ribcage wide, droplets of water dripping from the dusting of hairs to roll down carved musculature, leading to the trail of hairs that started just an inch above the towel.

“What. Are. You. Doing. In. Here.?” Arthur repeated.

“Oh, yeah. Last night, you said you probably had a spare toothbrush.”

“And that couldn’t wait until I was,” _‘less naked’_ , “dressed?”

“If you knew what my mouth tasted like right now you’d not me asking that.” Merlin responded, a grimace replacing the smile, tongue once more running over his teeth. The apple hadn’t helped as much as he’d hoped and now his mouth tasted like an old apple.

Beneath his automatic revulsion at the idea of just how rank Merlin’s breath must be at that moment, and despite the rather desperate wank that he’d indulged in, Arthur almost groaned at the fantasy of tasting Merlin’s mouth, nibbling at those full lips before sliding his tongue past them and teeth and tickling at tongue and palette, slicking over teeth and dipping, teasing the sensitive tongue coaxing it to return the favour, suckling on it.

Snapping fingers pulled him back and he scrabbled on the marble for the tube, slapping the toothpaste into Merlin’s palm without looking, not meeting Merlin’s eyes.

“Brush. Spit. Rinse.” Arthur brushed past him, into his room.

“And don’t come out of there until I say.”  
*** *** ***  
“So, the guy that came in with the rolling pin shoved up his ass, that’s true?” Gwaine was almost bouncing in his seat with excitement.

“How do you know abou-”

“The hospital knows. Discretion and A&E are total freaking strangers.”

“The man perforated his bowel Gwaine, have a little compassion.”

“For a guy too stupid to buy an ass friendly dildo? Nope.”

“He’s in surgery.”

“Because he’s stupid.” Gwaine said slowly, as if he thought it was Merlin that was a bit dim.

 

“What’s gotten into him?” Gwaine asked, smirk painted across his face. “Rolling pin?”

“How do you- never mind. Bad house guests.”

“You’re still on that? That was three days ago! I said I was sorry, and if you weren’t doing what I-”

“Shut up, shut up, shut up.” Arthur resisted launching himself over the table, wincing at the gleam in Gwaine’s eye. Great. Just great.

“What were you doing Arthur?” Gwaine asked, even more interested in that rolling pin man.

“Nothing. I was doing nothing. The only person doing anything was Merlin. Barging in on my shower.” Shit, he shouldn’t have said that, should not have said that.

“Really?” Drawled Gwaine.

“Not like that,” Merlin tried to rescue Arthur, but knew full well he’s was only going to make it worse. “After you’re lovely picture the other night, I stayed at Arthur’s-did you even notice I hadn’t come home?”

“Nope,” said Gwaine, waggling his eyebrows. “It was useful though.”

Merlin’s face fell and his glass slipped through his fingers to bounce against the table top, though none spilt. “Please no. Not again.”

“Me?” Gwaine was the picture of smutty innocence.

“You did, didn’t you? Why do you have to keep having sex on my bed?”

“Gwaine!” Morgana slapped him hard on the shoulder. “Keep your perversions to your own room.” She shrugged. “Or at least out of Merlin’s.”

“I stayed at Arthur’s. I needed a toothbrush but he didn’t hear me knocking so I went in and got one. While he was in the shower. That’s it.” ‘Mores the pity,’ Merlin thought.

“If you’re going to be boring.” Gwaine slid out of the booth and headed to the bar, wading through the crowd that was already three people deep and gesturing to Sefa. Sometimes it just paid to be regulars. And friends of the owner at that.

“That’s it? Did your mother raise you with no social skills?” Arthur scoffed, “Well clearly. Would have done it if Morgana had been in the shower.”

“I wouldn’t have minded,” said Morgana. “It’s not like you can see anything anyway between the steam and the doors and it wasn’t like you were going for a piss.” She grimaced. “Were you?”

“No!” I’d only do that to Gwaine, but only because flushing the toilet makes the shower go funny. I just really needed to brush my teeth.”

“You could have called out, that would have been the polite-”

“I knocked, twice. I didn’t want to disturb you.”

“You’re disturbed.”

"Come on lads," Gwaine boomed, lowering a loaded with shots onto the table, shoving aside the snacks detritus. “The kids don't like it when mummy and daddy fight."

Merlin cocked his head to the side, looking Arthur up and down, appreciating the view though he fought to hide it. He checked out the tight tee-shirt that accentuated Arthur’s barrelled chest and muscular arms. "Arthur would make a lovely mum. Don't you agree Morgana? "

Morgana made a show of pondering it. "Good wide childbearing hips, developed breast-”

“Breasts?! I do not have breasts. Are you calling me fat?” Arthur ran his hands over his chest, defined pecs and toned stomach. He didn’t have the same tight definition as Gwaine or even Percy but his solid build was just perfect. At least in Merlin’s eyes.

Merlin snatched away the crisp packet that sat on the table in front of Arthur and tipped the remains into his mouth, chewing quickly. “Not if I keep you on a rigid crisp-less regime.”

“There is a special type of punishment for such impudence.” Arthur declared straight faced.

“Really?”

“Yup.”

“And that would be?”

“Oh, you’ll find out.”

“All talk. No trousers,” goaded Merlin, reaching for the…oh was that-?

“Tequila?”

“Drink up, got to forget the last week.”

“Speak for yourself, I’ve got a shift tomorrow.” Morgana levered herself out of the booth, but reached for her shot, eschewing the salt and throwing it back, face screwing up from the taste as she rammed the lime quarter between her teeth and bit down.

“Yuck. Anyway,” she tossed the rind down into the waiting bowl, “got to run.” She leant over to kiss Arthur and then Merlin on the cheek, blowing a kiss to Gwaine and dancing out of his reach. “See you later boys.”

Despite the crush of bodies in the pub, men, and several women, eagerly stepped out of her way to let her pass, their appreciative glances and comments falling on deaf ears. Merlin wasn’t sure what Morgana’s type was but she’d never seen her flirt with anyone other than Gwaine, and even that was more mocking than anything that would lead anywhere. He supposed she was just picky. She didn’t seem the casual hook-up type and she could certainly have her pick of pretty much any room she entered. Merlin supposed she just knew what she wanted, she just hadn’t found it yet and wasn’t willing to settle.

Turning back to Arthur he picked up his own shot, licking the web of skin between thumb and forefinger before shaking a little salt on. Lick, shoot, suck.

“God that stuff’s as disgusting as I remember.” He breathed as he disposed of the peel onto the bowl with Morgana’s, Arthur’s landing seconds later.

“Yup. But if it’s going to erase today’s shift, then it’s worth it.”

“I swear I spent the last two hours of my shift on the phone to the tech people. Do they ever answer the phone?”

“Not to my knowledge. Well,” Arthur looked thoughtful. “I’ve heard legend that they do answer but only on a randomly chosen fifteen minute window every other Thursday, unless it fails between their lunch break. Which is between the hours of eleven and three thirty.”

“So the chances of getting the computer system to stop signing me out every time I press a button?”

“As good as Morgana saying yes the next time Gwaine tries to get her into bed.”

“Or Tom agreeing to Gwaine wanting to get in a dance machine.”

“He’s moved on,” Merlin informed him, “trying for a couple pool tables now. Which I support him in.”

“You play?” Arthur seemed shocked by the idea.

“I’m a better poker player, but yeah.” Merlin used to play with Will. The local, which knew full well they were underage, would sometimes serve them, but most of the time the pair didn’t try their luck, sticking to soft drinks while they made use of the bar billiard and pool tables. Will had become good enough that he could sometimes goad a fellow bar rat into a little competition, winning the odd fiver and on one occasion twenty quid. He hadn’t shut up about that one, reminding Merlin of it at every possible opportunity. Merlin hadn’t been as good, and hadn’t gotten the knack of bar billiards at all, leaving Will to find someone to play against, happy to sit back and watch. They’d gone out less and less as Will got weaker. In the fifteen years since he’d passed, Merlin hadn’t entered the pub once. He’d sat outside on the picnic tables a few times when his mother fancied a pub lunch for a change, but he refused to step inside, unable to walk past those tables and not see Will standing there, trying to goad someone into playing with him. It’d been five years before he’d taken a pool cue in his hands. His love for the game was so tied up in his love for Will.

“We’ll have to play sometime. Playing with Gwaine gets boring; he either gets distracted by a woman or food or a TV and sometimes he even manages all three. A single game can take hours.”

“Alright, I'll practice my provocative table lean in anticipation.”

“It is the most likely item Tom would be willing to get.”

“I’ve never asked. How do you two-?” Merlin asked, gesturing between Gwaine and Arthur. It was rare for a physio to come up to A&E, normally only sending a patient down with a letter if they thought there was something that needed urgent attention.

“Football,” Gwaine answered, “Arthur suggested I try starting a Saturday footie game last year for a few of my former patients, getting them the confidence to get back on the field.” Grabbing a crisp packet he squeezed the bag until it popped, startling the people at the closest tables. He flashed a smile at those closest, reaching over to offer a crisp to the woman to his right, sweeping his hair off his forehead with his free hand. “Hi,” he leered, “How are you?”

Rolling his eyes, Arthur turned to Merlin. “Some of his patients are athletes and some get so injured, well,” he shrugged and took a drink of his beer, Merlin dragging his eyes away from how Arthur ran his tongue over his top lip to catch the foam moustache, “they end up out of the game for a while, and they lose the confidence to get back on the field.”

He finished off his pint. “And some of them are former soldiers, young men and women that come back…”He shook his head and shrugged, “a little broken. Loss of a limb, particularly legs. I treated a couple of them, and Leon, you remember him from the other week, mentioned the psychological problem-”

“The getting back on the horse thing,” Merlin finished as Arthur nodded. “Yeah, sometimes, if you can get their mind off the prosthetic, they move more naturally and you start a familiar game and as you watch they get so involved in the game they forget. They learn they can be the same them, just with a prosthetic.”

Merlin smiled; he’d seen Leon with Gwaine a couple of times, getting fitted for a new lower leg that could cope with the athletic man’s preferred lifestyle.

“Technically it’s not under his purview but,” Arthur shrugged again, and Merlin was surprised by his modesty and felt a pang of guilt. He’d been so convinced that Arthur was just another mindless jock, the golden prince of The Royal Camelot ruling over the peasants, but the last few weeks had slowly been opening Merlin’s eyes to a side of Arthur that the other man seemed determined to hide, but that was hidden. That was kind and gentle.

“Any excuse to play footie?” Merlin badgered with a grin, giving an obviously discomforted Arthur an out. He would never have pegged Arthur as humble, embarrassed for his compassion to be seen, talked about. “Should have known you’d be a football fan.”

“Oh and why is that?”

“You’re the type,”

“And what is the type?”

“All muscle and brawn and limited brains.”

“Hey!”

“You even have a name for the team don’t you?”

Whatever it was Arthur said, it was mumbled into the head of his pint.

“Pardon?”

“TheCankgts”

“One more time with feeling.”

“The Camelot Knights. Happy?”

“Brill-”

Snatching up the spoon left with the remains of Gwaine’s apple pie, Arthur brandished it at Merlin. “So much as one word-”

“You’re threatening me with a spoon?”

“Yes,” Arthur remained firm, despite the ridiculousness. “Absolutely.”

“You going to spoon me?” Merlin couldn’t help it, it just slipped out, the breathy tone almost a whisper. ‘Damn tequila.’

Desperate to cover, he grabbed up Arthur’s empty glass and stumbed out of the booth. “Another?” He was gratified at how quickly Arthur nodded, a flush settling on his cheeks, the man’s gaze firmly on the table. ‘Must be the tequila,’ Merlin thought.

Glancing at Gwaine, Arthur huffed a laugh; Gwaine’s flirting style was never subtle but always effective. The woman he’d offered a crisp to was sitting upon his lap, feeding him crisps and the pair seemed oblivious to the rest of the pub. Merlin knew within a couple minutes, they’d leave. Which gave him a fifty-fifty chance of having a very disturbed night’s sleep. He wondered if Arthur would let him crash at his again that night. He’d learnt so much about Arthur, seen how incorrect his first impressions were; perhaps the Prince would look kindly upon a knackered pauper.  
*** *** ****  
The nurse leant closer to Merlin and offered his hand to Merlin. “I’m Julius.”

“Oh, uh, Merlin.”

“Great name.”

“Uh…thanks.” Merlin seemed more bemused than interested.

“You remind me of someone I used to know…it’s your skin. It’s amazing.”

“Oh?” Now Merlin just seemed uncomfortable.

“You know, if you’ve the time this weekend, I was going to be heading to this wicked club, ‘The Dragon’s Egg’, if you wanna come. Lots of hotties, you could have your pick.”

Arthur was silently running through ways he could break up the flirting going on as he went through charts, as Julius set his sights on his friend. Currently top of the list was a tie between a dragon flaming him out of existence or a building collapsing on top of him. If he couldn’t summon the balls to ask Merlin out, he could damn well stop someone else from doing so.

“Umm, I have plans, but thanks for asking.” Merlin was grateful for Freya’s timing as she brought some films to him; he disliked Julius, his greasy personality, his selfishness, his lack of any work ethic and utter lack of morals. But he didn’t know how to turn him down without being rude. Or out-right lying.

“Julius, I’m going to need you to place a catheter in Bay 3 as well as hanging a new saline IV, and need a new set of vitals on 5, organising porters and chairs for 8 and 4, and-”

“Why can’t you do it?” The nurse complained, leaning against the nurse’s station, ignoring the charts Arthur was trying to pass to him, making a face when Arthur just placed it on the counter.

“Because I’m asking you to.”

“Yeah, but I’m pretty busy,” he objected, gesturing at Merlin where he stood holding an X-Ray up to the bright light of the ceiling.

“Oh, clearly. But I have ten patients to discharge, and twenty three still left to see, many of whom are getting restless from the wait. I can do what I’m asking of you, but you can’t do my job. So how about you ditch the idea that you’re too good to do a nurse’s job okay?” Arthur signed off on the chart he held, dropped it on top of the other one and stormed off.

Morgana watched as Julius raised his middle finger at him.

“I wonder,” she enquired, stepping out from where she stood, enjoying the jolt of fear that shot through Julius, “if I might not have a quiet word, Julius.” She fought down a smirk as he whirled around, swallowing his gum at the same time. Morgana pointed at an empty exam room, following the man in and closing the door.

Morgana might not be an A&E nurse, and not have any particular power over Julius, but she was extraordinarily respected, and feared, among the staff of the hospital for her quality of work and compassion, all the way from Uther to the housekeeping staff.

Unseen at the nurse’s station, Merlin and Freya raised their eyebrows at each other, smiling. Freya had never gotten along with Julius; she was old school, fiercely proud of her job and it’s uniform, devoted to helping others. Merlin suspected there was a story there but he didn’t want to push, waiting for her to tell him as and if she wanted to. She and Morgana were known around the hospital as being old-school, the pair becoming fast friends as they bemoaned the rash of nurses that didn’t care about what they did, about the quality of care they provided for patients.

Slipping his phone out of his pocket, Merlin fired off a quick text of thanks to Arthur and promising to buy him a pint.

“The doc jocks just fall on you, don’t they?” Elena was behind them, discharge papers needing signing.

“The whats?” Merlin asked, reaching for the papers and scanning before signing at the bottom.

“The doctor jockeys.” At his shocked expression, Elena laughed and continued to explain. “Basically any employee of a hospital that will screw anyone with the title of Doctor. Some want to marry a doctor, others just have some weird fetish for white coats of something. Used to just be women, years ago but now,” she gestured at the door just opening waving at a triumphant Morgana and not-at-all subtly pointing at a very pale Julius who promptly turned the other way and walked away from Merlin at great speed, “it clearly jumps the sex barrier.” She screwed her face up. “Which sounds like a condom really, actually. Oh, which reminds me, I need to pick some up for Bay four.” As she ran away she turned partially around and pointed at Four. “Knock before going in. Trust me. Oh!” She, and the porter she’d slammed into fell to the floor in a heap.  
**** **** ****  
Negotiating the gridlock of wheelchairs and gurneys a week later, Merlin recognised a middle-aged woman he’d seen two hours previously, still waiting for an X-Ray on her thigh fracture and stepped up to her bed.

“Thank you for being so patient, Stephanie. We’ve had a couple ambulances come in and X-Ray is backed up, but it shouldn’t be too much longer. I’m so sorry.”

Stephanie smiled, huddling beneath the thin blanket as she tried to struggle into a more comfortable position without jarring her leg, waving away Merlin’s attempt to help, though she hissed in pain when she did jolt the splint. When she was a bit better situated she turned to him.

“I’m fine. Got nothing better to do and someone gave me her magazine when she left,” she waved the magazine. "I'm just a bit disappointed."

“Disappointed? I’m sorry if-”

“Oh, no, no, I knew it’d be a wait when I heard all those ambulances come in. I meant that.” She pointed at the linen closet a few feet further down the corridor and laughed at Merlin’s complete confusion.

“I knew that Casualty and Holby City and Grey’s Anatomy and all the rest are twaddle,” Merlin snorted, “but they are entertaining twaddle and they’ve given me a completely unrealistic expectation when it comes to hospital linen closets and empty exam rooms.” She waggled her eyebrows and leered, though her giggling somewhat lessened it’s power.

Merlin carefully propped his ass on the gurney, avoiding her legs. “And just what were you expecting?”

“Oh you know…illicit assignations, secret kisses, heated exchanges, fist fights, sexually charged arguments, mental breakdowns...Basically shenanigans of all kind.”

“Sorry to disappoint,” Merlin smiled at her, though he silently concurred. He too would rather something be happening in that closet. Any closet, come to that. Hell, a quiet hallway would be just as good.

“I’ll try to improve the situation. But I can raise your spirits.” He promised. At Stephanie’s interested look, he continued, “Gwaine. He’s a physio here so when you get sent to physiotherapy after the cast is off, he will flirt his ridiculously toned ass off.”

“Reaaally? Thank God. You are all so gorgeous that this is just a waste. But at least I have something to look forward to.”

Patting her hand, Merlin thanked her again for her patience, pushing off the bed gently. “I’ll see what I can do to hurry it up a little,” he promised before nodding at a waving Freya who was beckoning him furiously.  
**** ****  
“Oi, Merlin!”

Merlin sped around the corner directly into Arthur who had to grab his friend to steady them both, but even after he let go, the two men stayed close, though with others they had clearly defined personal space.

“You really are a trouble magnet aren’t you?”

“I thought you were off today,” Merlin asked, firmly informing himself that the weakness in his knees was everything to do with the adrenaline in his system from the fright and nothing whatsoever to do with Arthur and his proximity and his cologne and-

It was the adrenaline.

Arthur looked annoyed, “Well I was. And then I got a call from my father,” his tone suggesting that it hadn’t been well received by the younger Pendragon, “about…well that’s not important but it could have waited but of course father-” Arthur grimaced as he cut himself, off shrugging, shoulders tight and muscle in the back of his jaw was dancing away.

“My shift is over in twenty minutes, you wanna head to The Smithy? I’ll buy you a drink.”

“Not sure I’m fit company for everyone tonight.”

“It’ll just be me and you, Gwaine’s got a date and Gwen and Lance are doing wedding stuff – freakish amount of pink- and Morgana’s doing whatever it is she does when she’s not with-”

“Cooking up potions in her cauldron and cackling?”

“I know you love her really.”

“That remains to be seen.”

“Don’t believe you,” Merlin sing-songed, happy to see his teasing was drawing Arthur out of his shell a little, after he’d retreated to survive a meeting with his father. He idly wondered if a young Arthur had had to book appointments with his father’s secretary in order to see him. It was with a sinking feeling that he suspected that was probable.

“Do you spend all your time at the tavern?” Arthur enquired to dodge the subject.

“Umm…”

“I knew it,” Arthur crowed, startling a number of the people in the waiting room.

“Shhhh, you’ll have patients thinking I actually am alcoholic. Bugger off to the pub.”

“And you want to claim you’re not an alkie yet you send me to the pub.”  
“Bugger off, your Majesty.” Merlin

“Ah, you love me really,” Arthur patted Merlin’s cheeks with both hands, before mussing his hair into total disarray to watch Merlin scowl as Arthur set off, walking backwards down the hall.

“Thirty-ish minutes, yeah?” He asked, nodding at Merlin’s confirmation before turning and walking away.

With difficulty Merlin dragged his gaze from Arthur’s departing figure, his lush ass filling out his jeans perfectly, long legs with their muscular thighs emphasised by the light coloured denim.

He had patients.

To stop his traitorous eyes from checking if Arthur had turned the corner, Merlin flipped open the file in his hands, blindly searching for the relevant information. A delicate cough sounded behind him, and he resolutely didn’t jump.

“That was more like it.” Stephanie remained upon her gurney but looked far more pleased about it, a sly smirk lighting up her face as she stared triumphantly at him.

“Wha-“

Her laugh was light. “You and Mr Levi’s” She jerked her head in the direction Arthur had gone, and chuckled again. “Totally worth the many hours of waiting.” She tilted her head to one side, and Merlin fought to not squirm under her appraisal.

“Is he your boyfriend?” She asked, guileless.

“What?” Merlin squeaked, eyes wide as he felt his cheeks and ears flushing pink. “No, no. He’d never go for m-” he coughed, scrubbing one hand over his face. “We’re just friends.”

“Oh, but you want to be so much more.”

“And why would you think that?”

“Hate to see him go, loooove to watch him leave,” she drawled. She snorted loudly, “That and, um sweetie, you’re holding my chart upside down.”

**** **** ****  
Where the hell was he? Rubbing at his eyes, Merlin rolled over to stand up, and fell off the chair.

“Omph,” The grunt and impact caused his head to throb and his stomach roil. What had he done last night? What had he drunk? Was it tequila, was that why his mouth tasted faintly of lemons? Why were so many of his mornings starting like this? Why was that coffee table so familiar?

“Oh God, oh God,” he whispered, grasping at his head. Rolling onto his stomach and pushing himself, extremely slowly onto all fours, Merlin tried not to open his eyes, sure of what he’d see but knowing it was inevitable.

Yup. He was in Gaius’ living room.

And that was Arthur on the sofa. Snoring faintly. Which Merlin was particularly grateful for as it was the only sign he was alive, with his face so mashed into the arm rest that all that was visible was hair. His feet were dangling off the opposite end but no doubt, despite Merlin’s taller stature and that they had apparently invaded his uncle’s flat, Arthur had appropriated the slightly more comfortable place to sleep. Merlin, having little memory of the night, before really hoped that all the bruises he could feel all over his body were simply from sleeping curled up in an armchair and not because they’d gotten themselves in fist fight.

Again.

It was a short trip to the kitchen, that was only undertaken under dire need to rehydrate and Merlin didn’t bother to stand to make it, choosing instead to crawl to kitchen table, wincing at the sharp pain from his kneecaps on the stone flooring and grabbed a chair and used what was left of his ability to move with vomiting or crying to haul himself onto it.

Merlin promptly, and gently, crossed his arms on the smooth surface and delicately dropped his head onto his forearms and waited for the world to stop spinning for a while before he implemented the next stage of his quest for water; the tap was just so far away, the glasses even further.

His attempt to fall back into painless oblivion was summarily interrupted at the sound of a door opening further down the corridor, an all too familiar creak that heralded the master of the flat leaving his bedroom. Given the way he felt, Merlin welcomed the death that would no doubt rain upon his head.

The dull thuds of footsteps paused briefly before he heard Gaius step into the kitchen, his footfalls a whisper on the tiles.

“Would you care to explain why Arthur Pendragon appears to be passed out on my sofa?” Merlin wasn’t sure what was winning in Gaius’ tone, disappointment or disapproval.

“Ummmm.”

“Enlightening.”

“We went out, and we-”

“Got a whiff of alcohol and lost all judgement?”

“Yes?” Merlin replied hesitant, fairly sure it had been rhetorical but not wishing to piss his uncle of any more than necessary.

“And you’re here because?” Gaius shuffled towards the fridge, the tinkle of glasses and clunking of bottles suggestive that he was retrieving something and what sounded like Gaius sighing in irritation.

“Er, I’m not sure. I faintly-” Merlin delicately dug into his pocket and retrieved his phone, shifting backwards a little so he could hold the phone near his lap and still read it while keeping his head on the table as he confirmed his suspicion.

“Yeah, Gwaine pulled- met someone, well two someones. Asked me to stay somewhere else tonight. Last night.”

“And Arthur?” Gaius busied himself by filling a glass to the brim with cool water from the filter jug that Alice had insisted upon keeping in the fridge, condensation forming as dug through one of the many shelves above the counter.

“I couldn’t remember his address. It was all I could do keep him wearing his trousers, let alone get his address off him.”

“How appropriate.” Merlin knew, even without looking exactly what expression Gaius was firing at the crown of his head right now and for a horrible seconds Merlin thought of how exposed his neck was, how vulnerable.

There was the distinct ‘plop fizz’ of an effervescent tablet being dropped in water just before the glass was placed beside Merlin’s bowed head.

“And of all the places you could go, you chose here. How…honoured I feel.”

“Er…”

“Do you remember the pie?” Gaius changed tack.

"Hmm?' Christ, even those vibrations were killing him.

"The lemon meringue that Alice made for the W.I bake sale this afternoon.”

Fleeting snatches of memory teased at Merlin; the attempts to move silently through the flat, the accidently slammed door and broken plate, and there then inviting fluffy cloud of lemon pie.

“Oh god,” Merlin mumbled into the oak. “Oh god I’m sorry.”

Raising his head, Merlin followed Gaius’ eye-line to rest upon the remains of what Merlin could only identify as pie having been told so.

Figuring that it bears repeating, as he lowered his head back down, he tried again. “I’m really so sorry.”

“Yes, well. Whether your regret is over having ruined Alice’s pie or the effects that eating it brought you, remains to be seen.” Gaius huffed, standing to shuffle to the kettle and settled about making a pot of tea, being none to gentle with the cupboard doors and cutlery drawers, passive aggressive exasperation exuding from every pore. “I just hope you enjoyed it.”

Merlin grimaced as he tried desperately to not recall what had happened next.

“I think so,” his nephew allowed. “For a bit. Sort of.” he clamped his mouth shut and tried to quell his suddenly churning stomach, breathing deep as he could, slowly in through his nose, forcing the air out through his teeth and between clenched fingers, but it wasn’t helping much.

“I don't think lemon meringue and tequila can coexist within the same digestive tract,” he mumbled through his fingers, wanting to move on from all talk of food.

"Well, may this be a lesson to you-do not drink to excess and not to eat others’ deserts.’ Gaius reprimanded, plucking a summer berry cheesecake from the freezer, drawing the cling-film off as he placed it carefully in the microwave, punching the buttons for a hasty defrost. “Oh you’ll get your just desserts.”

Merlin’s groan was just audible over the hum of the microwave, Gaius radiating satisfaction, as he sat down again.

“Drink your water,” he advised, nudging the glass closer. Smirking at the slow and painful movements that were required for Merlin to sit upright without vomiting or passing out, Gaius glanced at the living room where Arthur seemed to remain slumbering.

“What happened that you two chose to imbibe to such an amount?”

“Arthur’s father wanted a word, and Arthur looked like he and Uther had both woken up on the wrong side of the bed for a decade” Merlin wiped the back of his hand across his mouth to catch the droplets he’d failed to swallow and smearing his hand down his tee-shirt, much to Gaius’ disapproval.

“I ran into him just before the end of my shift and we arranged to go out.” Merlin glugged the rest of the water, hoping the Benocca kicked in quick. “I know we started at The Smithy,” he shook his head. “But after that?” The microwave dinged and Gaius got up to check the pie, the normally mouth-watering scent of Alice’s cheesecake rallying the nausea like a battle cry.

“I wonder what Uther wanted.” Gaius’ gaze went hazy, his face relaxed as he seemed to weigh and measure any political wrangling or gossip that would have Uther in a tizzy.

 

“Merlin?” Arthur’s hair was sticking up in a hundred different directions, and he had bags beneath his red eyes but he was still gorgeous. “What did we do last night?” He took in the unfamiliar surroundings and frowned. “Where are we? And why are we here?”

Just then Gaius and Alice pottered back into the kitchen, their synchronised dance as they set about making toast and setting out juice for each other speaking volumes of long decades spent together.

“Ah.” Arthur turned in his chair, to face Gaius. “You have a lovely home, and I am so sorry if we disturbed your sleep.”

“That is quite alright.” The disapproval in Gaius’ expression denied his words and Alice chortled as she elbowed him. “They’re young, let them live a little. Do you remember what you got up to in medical school with that exchange student? What was her name? Grunhilda?”

Merlin had never seen his uncle blush before and whilst he really didn’t want any of the detail of Gaius’ encounters with this woman, he did enjoy knowing it was possible to make his uncle discomforted enough to back away from a lecture.

“You boys want anything?” Gaius asked as he transferred two plates of toast and glasses of juice onto the table, pulling back a chair for Alice. “More water?” He pulled another glass from the cupboard for Arthur, dropping a tablet in it, and fetched the water jug from the fridge, filling Arthur’s and then Merlin’s glasses, plunking the jug on the table before them.

“Drink that Arthur,” he advised.

Merlin suspected Gaius, and Alice, were enjoying eating their breakfast next to them, the couple grinning at them. Unable to cope with Gaius’ Cheshire cat grin any longer, Merlin dropped his head back to the table.

“Uh, about,” Arthur coughed, sure the back of his throat was closing up, “do you remember any of last night?”

“A little. Bits and pieces, I remember a lot of laughing. At things that now, sober, I know are unfunny.

“What did we drink?”

“Beers at The Smithy first, and maybe something green? Definitely something toxic and red.”

“I don't recall any of this.”

“Well, that tends to happen when you binge drink.” Gaius interjected.

“And then I remember having to run after you at one point, Then, when I caught up with you, I couldn't persuade you to put your jeans back on. But no cab would take us until you did so I sort of had to wrestle you into them. You were beyond reasoning. I think we fell over at one point, so any bruises, that’s probably it.”

The crunch of toast and slurp of tea filled the silence.

Merlin opened his mouth, then closed it again, unsure of what to say and how. Inhaling deep and sighing, he tried again.  
“You wanna talk about it?” he asked, biting his lip for asking.

Arthur hummed his confusion.

“Whatever your father said that had us drinking that red stuff. What was that?”

“He’s getting married.”

Merlin’s head snapped up, which he immediately regretted but the pain in Arthur’s voice was far more concerning than the world spinning around. So this was the cure for a hangover. He’d rather suffer the nausea and pain than see that look on his best friends face.

“Come along Gaius, I need you to drive me to the church hall.” Alice tugged on Gaius’ dressing gown, elbowing him when he couldn’t stop staring at Arthur, resorting to shoving him bodily from the kitchen. “The boys can do the washing up. Can’t you?” It wasn’t a question but Merlin called his agreement.

“Good.”

Merlin waited through the couple dressing and donning coats and scarfs, getting themselves ready and it wasn’t until the door slammed that he turned to Arthur.

“He’s what?” He’d never really imagined Uther Pendragon on a date; he was a good looking man but most of the time he had a scowl and harsh word for someone, particularly Arthur. Merlin couldn’t imagine him faintly affectionate, let alone in love.

“Her name is Catrina Tregor.” Arthur spat. “She’s a business partner of my uncle’s in some concern or other. To be honest I wasn’t paying much attention to that bit. She’s also a big donor to the hospital. Or her husband was; you know, the Tregor Unit? Up by Burns. He died a couple months ago-”

“They’ve been dating a couple months?” Merlin squawked. “And they’re already engaged?”

“Weeks.”

“Two weeks?” Merlin had previously never imagined that his voice could get that shrill.  
“Volume,” Arthur winced.  
“Sorry, sorry, it’s just…that’s fast right? I’m not the only one that thinks that’s fast?” Arthur nodded stiffly

“Is he normally that impulsive?”

“Very much the opposite, actually. I don’t think he’s had a date in the last thirty years.” Arthur twisted his mother’s ring on his finger. “From the way he was talking last night, it was like he was bewitched; it was as if every sentence started ‘Catrina likes’ or ‘Catrina thinks’. Apparently she likes winter weddings, so she thinks Christmas is the most romantic day to get married.”

“That’s umm…”

“I’ve been commanded to attend dinner with them tonight, get to know my new step-mother.”

 

***** ***** ****  
Merlin pressed the call button at the front door of Arthur’s building, a takeaway and, given their night before, a carton of juice in a bag around his wrist.

“Yeah?” Arthur’s voice was reedy and thin over the intercom.

“Hey, it’s me.”

“Merlin? What are you-”

“I’ll tell you when you let me in, come on it’s a cold night!”

Merlin’s hand was already on the door handle when Arthur buzzed him in, nodding to the concierge and the security guard as he passed the reception desk and called a lift, punching in the key code that would allow the lift to take him to the penthouse.

Arthur was standing in the doorway when the doors opened, arms crossed over his chest, eyeing Merlin suspiciously.

“And you’re here because?”

“Because I know the sort of restaurant that your father will have taken you tonight which means you’ve had about four, maybe five teaspoons worth of pretentious, over-priced, over hyped food.” He lifted the bag in his hand, the greasy aroma making his mouth water. “So I brought something a little more palatable.”

Having trooped to the kitchen and picked up a couple forks, the pair sprawled over the sofa in the living room, not bothering with plates and Arthur, as suspected, attacked his container with vigour.

“So what was she like?” Merlin asked, burping around the mouthful of rice in his mouth, ignoring Arthur’s look of disgust.

“She’s attractive enough, seems nice. But…” he twiddled the fork in his hand, stabbing the noodles

"He was so...off." Arthur sank further into his seat. "He was cheerful,” Arthur looked like saying it repulsed him. "I think he was flirting and-" he shook his head and slurped his water before he wrinkled his nose. "There were innuendos Merlin. Innuendos." Arthur’s voice was flat, and he was staring at a point just to the left of Merlin’s own gaze.

“I just sat through two hours of my father making double entendre after double entendre. And getting all kissy face.”

“Kissy face?”

“Like a teenager.” Merlin tried, he really honestly did, but no matter how hard he tried, he could not imagine the cold, hard Medical Director actually having a genuine smile, let alone getting all gooey over someone. The best he’d ever seen was the somewhat shark-like grin that was more a show of teeth than a smile.

"You're dad dated since you-" Arthur's shaken head cut him off.

"Well, maybe this is what your dad is like in love." Something unidentifiable flashed across Arthur's face.

'Something more I took from him.' His wife, his joy…I really was the worst thing that ever happened to him.’

“You should have heard her too.” Adopting a falsetto and dreamy expression, Arthur took Merlin’s hand and looked him straight in the eye.

“Oh, miracles do happen. After all, is it not a miracle that we should have found each other again after all this time?” Merlin started to laugh but didn’t withdraw his hand.

“And my good fortune continues. For you are a remarkable man, Uther Pendragon. You are brave, but compassionate. You are powerful, but modest. And most of all, you are very, very handsome.”

Merlin fought his laughter, lips pursing tight as he tried to avoid re-decorating the living-room with masticated chow mein, swallowing hard to prevent it. Arthur had no such trouble and his guffaws echoed off the walls.

**** ****  
How had this happened? How had a routine evening devolved into this?

Merlin had no idea but he did know one thing.

This had to stop.

“Sir,” he tried, stepping away as the patient rounded on him, blood from his torn canula site lazily wrapped like ribbons down his forearm. Merlin’s mind ran through a list of blood born diseases that could be contracted.

The young man, possibly even still teenager, had come in via ambulance, kicking and screaming but within twenty minutes, he’d been sent for an X-Ray, so they’d all had a brief reprieve while he was dispatched to the scanning reception but when he’d been returned, the moment the porters had left, he'd leapt up from the bed, unmindful of the multitude of wires and needles that ripped free from both his flesh and machine.  
He darted to the side, phenomenally quick and grabbed at the first person he reached, twisting their arm up behind their back to allow his other hand to come up and over her shoulder, resting with intent upon her neck.  
In the unnatural hush of the A&E the snick was like a gunshot, the man hefting the… _’oh Jesus is that a box-cutter?’_ up, the handle grasped in his hand so the razorblade protruded past his little finger.

Elena’s eyes tried fruitlessly to track the hand that held the blade, feeling his arm shift behind her before she felt the scratch of the tip of it at her cheek before it was pressed to the skin and dragged slowly upwards, the blade so sharp it was more of a stinging sensation, hot blood welling from the wound.

She refused to scream, though tears leaked from her eyes, blending with the blood upon her cheek, the trail flowing down her neck to seep in the starched collar of her tunic, staining the pristine white crimson.

With shaking hands the young man held the blade to Elena’s throat, his captive’s eye’s wide and terrified as she looked at Merlin, though she neither struggled nor tried to get free, too afraid to move in case she cut herself.

“I’ll kill her!” He screamed, spinning them round to keep an eye on Arthur. “I’ll do it. I’ll kill her.”

“Let her go.”

“Not until you listen to me.”

“I’ll listen when you let her go.”

The man’s too wide eyes darted around the room, seeking Merlin knew not what, his gasping breaths ruffling the fine hairs that always pulled free of Elena’s bun within minutes of her tying it back.

“Sir-”

“My name is Mordred!”

“Ok Mordred,” Merlin raised his hands, “if you let Elena go-”

“No!”

“If you let Elena go, you can take me instead.” Merlin stared at Arthur, eyes wide.

_‘Where the fuck is security?’_

“Why are you denying who you are?” Mordred demanded, screaming at Merlin with a look of pure hatred in his eyes.

“Who do you think I am?”

“You’re a sorcerer like me! Why do you bother working among these worthless people?”

“Why would you think I-”

“Your name,” Mordred used the box-cutter to gesture at the ID slung around Merlin’s neck. His name had gotten him some shit, but nobody had actually believed that he was a wizard. The closest to being magical he got was being called a fairy by the sort of louts Valiant probably hung around with at medical school.

“No. Mordred, I’m just a doctor. My name-it’s just…my mum was desperate for a child. She visisted Chalice Well. She got pregnant soon after, named me Merlin. It’s just coincidence.”

“You were born of magic,” Mordred shrieked in delight. “You are even more powerful than I could have imagined. My friends will be coming for us.”

“You don’t have any friends here, Mordred.”

“They’re coming. And you will lead us.” His face fell and he looked bemused and quite genuinely upset, as if Merlin were in some way disappointing him. “I’m hurt, Merlin.”

Arthur stepped closer, hands still raised by his head. “I can help with that, Mordred. I’m a good doctor. He mouthed ‘alright?’ at Elena taking her slow blink as a yes.

“I’m hurt, Sire, because he doesn’t remember me. You…you killed me, cursed us to this. I won’t let it happen again. This as foretold, why do you think we’re all here again. The Once And Future King,” he spat the epithet at Arthur, causing him to frown, “cursed us to repeat, and unless Merlin remembers, you will prevail.”

His face crumpled in disgust, hands flexing tighter, Elena squeaking as the blade scratched into her skin again.

He whirled back to Merlin, Elena stumbling as he tugged her around by her neck.

“Remember me.”

“I’m just a man, Mordred. It’s all a coincidence, it’s funny when you think of it.”

“You are not. Stop saying that. You are so much more than a man and together…we could rule the world.”

Merlin shook his head, sharp and fast. “I don’t want to rule the world.”

Mordred frowned, his body sagging and he backed away from Merlin as though struck, his fists so tight the knife shook in his grasp as blind fury replaced the frown.

Everything slowed down for Merlin, everything from Mordred and Elena, to Arthur and himself. He had the disorientating feeling he’d remember these seconds perfectly until the day he died.

Mordred had backed up close to Arthur, and his friend had taken the opening. Leaping forward, Arthur threw his body at Mordred, succeeding in surprising Mordred enough that he loosened his grip on Elena, the hand with the blade dropping from vulnerable neck to shoulder, the brave nurse taking advantage and ramming her elbow back hard into Mordred’s gut, Arthur reaching for her hand and tugging her away with such force she hit the floor, quickly scrambling to safety, another nurse grabbing hold of her and pulling her close, pressing a tissue to her still bleeding cheek.

As Arthur surged towards him, Mordred whipped around to face him, shifting the box-cutter in his hand, withdrawing the blade into the shaft and adjusting his grip on the heavy metal handle, arm pulling back only to swing hard coming to a sudden stop…against the side of Arthur’s head and as Arthur’s body began to drop, Mordred had delivered a kick to Arthur’s chest, hard and fast like a mule, toppling Arthur backwards into an empty gurney, his body flopping against and then over it, his body disappearing from view with a sickening crash.

Terror hit Merlin square in the chest, hard and fast as a punch, knocking the breath from his lungs and he beat from his heart. All he could see was Arthur was his fingers jutting past the bed’s wheels, unmoving, pale. All Merlin could do was hope that Arthur was alive. Because he had a sinking feeling that he wasn’t going to survive this particular encounter.

He wasn’t going to lose his friend tonight. Not here. Not now.

Movement to his left caught his attention and he reflexively ducked as a visitor’s chair as flung at his head. Where in fucking hell was security? He could see some of the nurses huddling with small pockets of patients, desperately trying to keep them calm and quiet, though a small boy sobbed as he clung to his mother.

But no reassuring bulk of Percy or his colleagues.

With a slicing arc, Mordred threw himself at Merlin, blade coming around again to try and slash at his face. Merlin brought his knee up as hard as he could, crushing cock and balls between pubic bone and kneecap, the blow causing Mordred aim to suffer, the blade slicing through Merlin’s lower arm instead, effortlessly cutting through coat and shirt and skin.

He got his palm up under Mordred’s chin, heal of his hand shoving the man’s head back, other hand balling into a fist and ramming into Mordred’s side, The box-cutter clattered across the floor, an middle-aged woman using the cane of the elderly man next to her to drag it towards herself, before sliding back to the wall

Merlin pushed Mordred backwards, overbalancing the both of them, letting his own weight follow him down. They hit the ground together, Merlin’s knees cracking on the floor

He wasn’t a violent person, he’d preferred to talk his way out of situations or, even better, avoid them entirely. He hated violence, hated fighting. He hated having to stich back together the brawlers that came into the A&E, the terrified partners of abusers, hated the sounds of flesh battering flash, of crying and pain.

But this…this was different. This man had wounded Elena, had scared the shit out of everyone in the A&E, and had incapacitated Arthur, possibly severely and he needed to get away from nutjob and get to assessing Arthur’s injuries.

It was then that his control cracked, the anger and fear that had driven him through to this point flooding out and taking over his body; Arthur was his friend, very possibly the man he sort of was maybe, falling in love with, and even if it cost him his job, he was going to make sure he was safe. Between one heartbeat and the next it was if the rage took control a red haze seeping over his vision.

Mordred hit the ground with a thud and the slap of flesh against floor, his teeth smashing together, blood flowing between his lips, eyes bright with fury as he struggled against Merlin’s hold

“Merlin, Merlin,” Percy’s deep voice cut through the haze of Merlin’s mind, a large hand falling onto Merlin’s shoulder, pulling him off, stopping his fist from slamming into his face again and again.

“Merlin, it’s ok. We’ve got this.” Merlin staggered back, fury slowly clearing as he took in the smears across his knuckles, the expanding puddle of red stark upon the linoleum.

As he came back to himself he watched as Mordred struggled against the vice-like hold Percy now had on him, yanking his hands behind his back, straddling his hips and pressing him down. Doctor Hora appeared as if from nowhere, removing the cap from a hypodermic and plunging it into Mordred’s thigh, whose struggles slowed and ceased.

“Doctor Emrys, are you well?” Hora gave him a helping hand, supporting him as he stood.

“Uh, yeah, uh,” said Merlin shakily watching as Percy cautiously stood up, and two Constables came forward along with one of Percy’s men who was pushing a wheelchair that they all men bundled Mordred into, handcuffing one wrist to the arm.

“Good, it is not your destiny for this to be your end,” and with that Hora took the handles, of the wheelchair, Percy and his colleague walking on either side with  
the Constables behind as they whisked Mordred away.

Heedless of his own wound, the staining of blood on the pure white of his lab-coat surely making it look worse than it really was, Merlin scrambled across the blood splattered linoleum, ignoring the cries of the people around him, seeing only Arthur’s supine form.

“Arthur!” Merlin fell to his knees, heedless of the pain as he reached over, swiftly checking for obvious injuries, careful of jarring Arthur’s head or neck.

“I need help,” Merlin yelled, eyes not moving from Arthur’s face. Cautiously he felt over Arthur’s scalp for contusions, the silky hair sliding through his fingers.

“Arthur, can you hear me?” Arthur’s eyelids seemed to flutter a little, Merlin’s heart jumping at the sign. Plucking the penlight from his pocket, he carefully drew back Arthur’s upper lids, the eyeballs rolled back but pupils visible enough for a quick exam. Shining the light into Arthur’s eyes he breathed a sigh of relief.

“Pupils unreactive but equal,” he muttered, finding solace in talking himself through the procedure. That’s all it was. A procedure he’d run through countless times. Nothing different about it.

Except this was Arthur. His friend. The noble, brave prat. The man he…well, that he loved.

“Arthur, I need you to open your eyes. Come on Arthur. Please.”

_‘Why was Merlin talking on the inside of his skull? How? And why was he so loud?’_

“Listen to me you clotpole. You are not the only pompous, supercilious...” Merlin groped for words, hoping that goading Arthur awake would work.

“Condescending, royal…complete imbecile that I could work with. The world is full of them.” His breath hitched at Arthur’s obstinately still form. “But this one is my friend, and I’m willing to give you another chance. Please open your eyes. Wake up”

 _‘Of course he could wake up, his eyes were open weren’t they? Surely they were.’_ In a haze, he tried to shake his head only for warm hands to clamp his head still. What did Merlin want? Move, don’t move. Wake up, don’t wake up. For God’s sake the idiot needed to make up his mind. And Arthur was going to tell him that.

“Nghnnnnggng.”

He heard the faint rasp of…was that Velcro? Those hands returned, exerting gentle pressure as something stiff was slid beneath his neck, and fastened, keeping his head from lolling. Not that it was, because he was awake. He felt like he was floating.

Were those Merlin’s hands? They were as gentle as he’d thought they’d be.

Pushing Merlin away, Arthur tried to struggle to his feet, despite Merlin’s clucking disapproval. The sudden spinning vertigo sent him reeling, feeling like he was in a tilt-a-whirl, blood rushing from his head, his skin feeling weirdly too small for his body and he stumbled, smacking into Merlin who shut up to hold him steady. And close.

“And that’s why I was going to say not stand up.” Merlin chided, though he held Arthur close, well aware of his friend’s stubborn attitude and complete inability to accept help from anyone.

“Just breathe, give it a sec and we’ll get you into the bed.”

Arthur wanted to make a snappy retort to that superfluous statement and refute the bed idea but he was too busy drawing lungful after lungful of Merlin, nose buried in his hair.

“Wha happened?” he mumbled into the jet hair, lips caressing Merlin’s ear as he spoke, though he attributed the shiver that travelled his friend’s body to be down to the probable concussion.

“Mordred’s off on a 72 hour hold I’m guessing. I managed to get him down after he hit you. Hora, Percy and some police whisked him off somewhere. Typical, someone finally calls you Sire, and even means it, and he’s a nutter.” Arthur’s legs buckled a little and Merlin hurried to get to the edge of the bed, hands appearing as nurses arrived to help him lift Arthur, settling him onto the gurney, someone passing him a blanket to cover Arthur with as he fell asleep.  
*** *** ***  
He was dreaming, he had to be. HE was dimly aware that he was in a bed, a blanket loosely drawn over him. A pillow was wedged beneath his head and his hands felt like ice from the inside out. The scent of disinfectant was thick in the air, too sharp and pervading.

Was he a patient? Why was he a patient? He tried to remember, to think but he couldn’t seem to grasp at any memoires as to why he was here.

The headache that plowed into his temples was like a dump-truck had hit him, his eyes squeezing shut against the pain.

“Fuuuuuck…” he groaned.

Had he been hit by a truck? It certainly felt like it, the pain like a nail being driven through his head, his freezing hands coming up to clutch at his head, someone gently intercepting them and tucking them back beneath the blanket, rubbing briskly at the cold skin as he sunk back into the dreamlike state somewhere between sleep and awake.

Arthur caught only snippets of the conversations around him, the pounding of his head blocking out a lot of the white noise of the rush and hurry of the A&E, but at the sound of Merlin’s voice he tried to concentrate.

“Do everyone a favour Merlin and get that arm seen to.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re bleeding Merlin, I need to see how deep it is. And none of the patients want to be treated by a doctor that drip blood all over them.”

“It’s a flesh wound, I’ll be fine.”

“And blood is trailing down your hand because-”

“Because it’s fine. I need to look after Ar-”

“Hora is looking after him-”

“I need-”

“To get your arm checked. It’ll take ten minutes, if that. And I got you a new scrub top.”

“Ten!”

“Sit.” Mithian barked, “I know you care for Arthur, I know he’s your friend, and I know you’ll do anything for him but the best you can do for him is get yourself checked over. Then you can go.” There was the squeak of a chair being dragged across linoleum and the soft thud of someone, most likely pushed into the chair, sitting down.

“Bleeding over Arthur…he will not thank you for it. You can tell him off for being too noble or whatever, in a few minutes. You can call him every name that comes to mind, and,” Mithian was interrupted by what Arthur assumed was Merlin’s hiss of pain, “then he’ll do the same back. I can’t believe you tackled the guy.”  
“What was I supposed to do?”

“Wait for Percy?”

“Waiting for Percy got Elena hurt, got Arthur knocked out, and got me this. Wasn’t really working or me.”

“Sit, shut up and get sutured.”

“Fine.”  
**** *****  
He must have fallen asleep again, as next he knew, Arthur found himself listening to the subtle hiss of oxygen pumping through the nasal canula looped across his face. He was aware he was babbling quietly, something funny from the snort of the person beside him but he wasn’t aware of what it was he was saying.  
How much time had passed? He felt better. Well, less like he wanted to vomit up everything he’d ever eaten and his intestinal tract as well, and he was far more awake, the memories of an enraged patient threatening his staff flooding back and his own unfortunate swan dive over the gurney to protect Elena.  
Arthur forced his eyes open…and wished he hadn’t. The bright florescent lights bore into his skull, temples throbbing. “Off,” he groaned, distracted as Elena leant over him, a haphazard and inadequate bandage slapped over her cheek, no doubt by her, bright red already seeping through, as she hooked the nasal canula back over his ears, settling the tubes into Arthur’s nostrils despite his weak protests and attempts to stop her, smiling as she looked at him.

“Just lie there doctor, I’m doing it either way.”

“Cheek,” he managed, hand lifting to her chin, weaving a little as he tried to focus, fingers brushing her uncovered cheek.

“As soon as you’re good.” Elena was a sweetheart, clumsy and awkward in all things but when she was with a patient, and she was almost as stubborn as Merlin.

“Now.” Arthur countered, words and thoughts coming more easily now he’d started, though his head still hurt like fuck, moving his arm to shove his hand over his eyes, listening to footsteps he knew to be Merlin returning to the bed. When did he become able to tell Merlin’s footfalls from others?

“Hey, he’s waking up more. Ordering me about,” Elena laughed, as she arranged a BP cuff around Arthur’s arm and starting it up, reaching over to get the pulse monitor onto the forefinger of the hand not currently being used as a light shield, and he heard the sound of her shoes squeaking away as she was called over to someone else.

“Arthur,” Merlin kept his voice low, aware Arthur was probably sensitive to sound as well as light.

“Hmmm.”

“You ok?”

“Oh yeah.”

“Nausea?”

“Only when you’re talking.”

“Nice. I saved your ass-”

“You?” Arthur huffed a laugh before wincing, both hands cradling his head.

“You can admit it. I saved you. There’s no shame in it.”

Arthur blindly groped for the bed control, raising his upper body; he felt entirely too vulnerable in his current position being lower that Merlin, being looked down on.

“How are you? How’d it-”

“After he took you down, he came at me, I-” Merlin shrugged, uncertain. Whilst Mordred had needed to be subdued, that there were people that had been in danger, Merlin actually wasn’t proud of what he’d done. How he’d hit and hit Mordred even after Percy had arrived. He didn’t want to have to tell Arthur about it.

“How are you?” Arthur asked, vague memories of Merlin having had an injury surfacing, though beyond bruised knuckles he couldn’t see anything needing sutures  
.  
“I’m fine.”

“Starting to think you don’t know what that word means.”

“Where’s Elena?” Arthur asked, slowly moving his head around to see if the nurse was still around, wanting to reassure himself.

“Mithian’s going to suture her cheek and send her home. Morgana’s coming to pick her up, didn’t want her on her own. I think they’ve probably got a chilled out day planned. Elena is plucky but today really freaked her out so… What does one do after successfully fighting off a drugged up lunatic who is of the belief he’s a wizard?” Merlin mused, shooting a smile at his friend.

“Apparently she hopes the cut will scar so she’ll have a cool story, to tell people” he frowned, “though don’t know what she needs a scar for and Mithian will be pissed that Elena thinks her work may actually scar. Very proud of her suturing skills, is Mithian. And I think she’ll be going trick or treating as a pirate when she takes the Brownies out.”

“I’ll be going off home at some point too. Gwaine’s already here, in the gym somewhere so at least it’ll be quiet.” Arthur could hear the slight quiver to his voice, the hint that Merlin didn’t really want to go home alone. He busied himself checking his vitals, pleased to see his pulse ox high and blood pressure mostly normal. He knew what Merlin was planning, to admit him in some ward out of the way for observation and he was buggered if that was happening; his vitals were fine and he was a doctor. He knew how to look after himself. He’d just sign out AMA if needs be.

“There’s something I want to say,”

“You’re not actually going to say ‘thank you’ are you?” Merlin teased, trying to lighten the mood, but instantly regretted it at the mulish expression that darkened Arthur’s face, a flicker of something Merlin couldn’t identify that was gone just as quickly.

“Well not now, no.” Arthur looked sullen and annoyed. Merlin desperately wished he knew what Arthur was thinking; he longed for the days when he’d though Arthur no more than a simple, spoilt jock, riding his daddy’s coat tails.

As Merlin shoved his sleeves up to his elbow Arthur’s eyes tracked to the bandage around Merlin’s forearm. “Your first battle wound,” he said, voice flat, expression even darker. He seemed…upset.

“Gotta have something to show for it right?” He tried, too tired and drained to do much better, but Arthur picked up on his desire to sink into their normal banter, needing the reassurance like oxygen.

“You still scared?” He needled, playing the game.

“I was not scared,” Merlin denied.

“I could hear your knees knocking-”

“From where you were lying unconscious on the floor?”

“Alright, maybe you weren’t totally terrified,” Arthur allowed, Merlin sitting back mollified, “but only because you’re talking your normal nonsense.”

“See? I mean,” he “I mean that I wasn’t scared. And I do not talk nonsense.”

“See, you’re doing it again.” In retribution Merlin jabbed him in the side with his penlight. “Fine, fine, whatever you say.” Arthur condescended.

“Why are you so concerned anyway, hardly our first violent patient.”

“I know it’s hard for you to understand how I feel,” hitching himself up to sit on the edge of the gurney, Merlin took one of Arthur’s hands between his own, ignoring the thrill at being able to do so, tamping it down with the knowledge Arthur was only allowing it from shock, “But those sutures I did on your face last month were some of my best work. I’d be a shame to have them wasted.”

Arthur snatched his hand back to punch at a laughing Merlin, who darted to safety. “Hey, walking wounded here,” Merlin protested, dancing on the edge of Arthur’s reach.

“Are you calling me pretty?” Arthur enquired, far too sweetly.

“As a princess,” Merlin confirmed, only just ducking the empty water pitched that flew at his head into the bay curtain and onto the floor with an almighty crash.

“Oh yes, that’s a really nice thank you to the man who saved your arse.”

“Saved?” Arthur spluttered, “You did not save me!” Arthur heaved himself to a sitting position, ignoring the thumping of his head and spinning of the world until it righted.

“If that’s what you want to believe,” Merlin acknowledged with affected disappointment, though his smile gave him away. Arthur had never seen such an expressive face as Merlin’s, nor one so bland when the man wanted it to be.

“Can I go, oh saviour?” Arthur asked, changing the subject.

“Yeah,” Arthur began to detach himself from the BP cuff and heartbeat monitor, silencing the damn machine’s immediate alarm, trying to arrange it all neatly on its stand before growing bored and just dumping the lot on top. There’d be hell to pay from the nurses but he didn’t much care right then.

“But,” Merlin’s severe tone caught Arthur’s attention as he tugged his jumper on over his scrub top, “I’ll be going with you.”

“What?”

“I’ll be staying with you, at yours or mine I don’t care but you, my swooning-”

“Swooning?” Arthur bellowed, lurching off the bed, privately incredibly relieved that he didn’t face-plant the moment he got his ass off the bed, and grabbing at Merlin, successful in snagging his cuff and reeling him in, tugging him tight against his side as he got him in an arm lock, rubbing his knuckles hard into Merlin’s hair as his friend laughed and squirmed.

“Not so swoony now, huh?”

“As a maiden,” Merlin choked out around his laughter, squirming against Arthur’s hold. “Still monitoring you though.” Arthur released him and glowered, though he was more than a little amused at Merlin’s hair, briefly distracted by the wonderment of if Merlin’s hair looked that way after a night of really great sex.

“Concussion one-oh-one. Monitor the patient. I’m not going to make you stay here-”

“You couldn’t if you tried-”

“So I’ll be staying with you.”

Swooshing back the curtain, the pair waved their goodbyes to the team that’d clocked on during handover, heading towards the staff lifts to get their gear from the locker room.

Assessing Merlin, seeing the set to his shoulders and clench of his jaw, Arthur knew he was beaten and with ill-grace conceded. He suspected the only reason he wasn’t being supported by his friend right now was because Merlin was trying to honour his independence. And stubbornness. But he suspected Merlin wasn’t going to bend on this.

“Fine. My place. But don’t think I don’t know that this is a ruse to stare at the view. Just don’t get any grubby hand marks all over the glass thing time. I’m half surprised you didn’t leave your nose mark too, must have been pressed against the damn thing like tiny Tim checking out the goose.”

“I’ve only ever seen the Muppets Christmas Carol so I can’t say but that Tiny Tim didn’t have a nose, so even if I had done that, still wouldn’t leave a nose print.”

“See, see, that right there. Nonsense. Total nonsense.”

“And don’t underestimate just how much I love your fridge. And your couch. And those bookshelves.”

“On which sits a copy of A Christmas Carol. It could be very educational, and you can wake me up when you get to the long words you don’t understand.”

“Shut it, Scrooge,” Merlin requested wandering up to the bank of lifts and punching the down button, swiping his ID card while Arthur leant against a wall as they waited, resisting the urge to slide down it until he was sitting, or just going the whole hog and curling up right there to get some sleep, and hoped Merlin wouldn’t notice. Of course this was the moment he did.

“You dizzy?” he stepped forward, frowning with concern only for Arthur to bat his hands away with annoyance.

“Tired.” He avoided Merlin’s unconvinced gaze by checking the time on his watch, honestly shocked at how much time had passed since the altercation with Mordred; he’d been lying on that gurney for hours now. “Night shifts do that. And it’d going to brutal getting home. It’s rush hour.” God, he really was exhausted.

“I’ll drive.”

“You’ll drive? My car? You, who got your licence only last year, will drive my thirty thousand pound car.”

“You spent thirty grand on a car?” Merlin’s shriek caused a couple porters to come running into their alcove, their expressions clearing when they caught sight of the stunned doctor, wandering off again after calling their hellos, clearly used to the man.

“Ow. Merlin. Jesus. Would you take it down a notch?”

“How on earth-”

“I didn’t, ok? I didn’t. My father bought it for me when I was accepted here after my foundation years. It’s not even a particularly nice car, but it’s what he got me.”

Merlin dearly wanted to continue tease Arthur over his stupidly expensive car but he heard the unspoken ‘it’s the only way I know he was proud of me,’ that was hidden in Arthur’s words. Uther Pendragon clearly found throwing money at son easier than expressing even a small sign of true affection.

“Wanna know what I got when I was accepted into the programme?” Merlin asked as Arthur pushed himself away from the wall with a grunt as a cheery ‘ping’ announced their lift.

“A hug. No wait, a hug and a cuppa and the last hobnob.” He realised immediately it was the wrong thing, catching Arthur’s wistful expression on the rear mirrored wall of the lift. He’d clearly not been meant to see it but it still broke his heart a little. Arthur had never had a mum to hug him and be proud of him and let him have the last chocolate hobnob. He didn’t even have a father that did those things.

“I’m sorry that was-”

“No, no. That’s nice. To have that.” ‘To be loved like that’, Arthur meant, fully aware that Merlin would be able to deduce that; his friend really wasn’t the simpleton he’d first imagined him to be. He knew from stories people told of his mother that she would have been the type to shower her only child with love and easy affection, that once his father had been that way as well. To know that he was responsible not only for his mother and uncle’s deaths but also the passing of his father’s compassion and warmth, that was a horribly heavy burden. God he was tired. So exhausted by it all; the fights, the cold shoulder, the mistrust, the insanely high expectations that even when met were still never enough and the respect unearned yet demanded. More often than not Arthur felt more like Uther’s employee rather than his son. He was just so bone weary.

Arthur let his eyes close and rested his head back against the mirror. Truth be told being in the lift was making his nauseous and it felt like his head was going to explode. Even without looking he could just sense Merlin’s need to say something, anything, and he couldn’t bear that, not right now. He heard Merlin’s inhale, sure he was going to open his mouth and cut him off.

“Besides you wouldn’t be insured.”

“What? Oh…right, the car thing. Still can’t believe you got a thirty grand car but I’m leaving it. Besides my insurance covers me third party on any car other than mine, so-”

Arthur could have kissed the ground in gratitude at being able to get out of the lift if only he wasn’t still dizzy and nauseous after he stepped out, walking down the ever cool hallway; at least one of the doors was always propped open by someone or other, probably for a smoke and then left that way, the frigid night air making the area unbearably cold. Even in autumn mornings it wasn’t the warmest of walks and Arthur could see his breath mist the air.

“So,” Merlin continued, as ever beside Arthur, “pony up.” He held out his palm, making a ‘gimme’ motion. “I know you don’t like leaving them in your locker so, gimme.”

“There is no wa-”

“I promise I won’t touch any buttons in your crazy James Bond, Bruce Wayne Arthurmobile. Just the ignition, gear-stick and pedals.” Smiling magnanimously and resting his other hand across his heart awkwardly, he vowed, “I’ll even allow you full radio control privileges.”

“Allow me?” Arthur barked, stopping in surprise, “It’s my fucking car.”

“Driver gets to pick the tunes.” Asserted Merlin, hand still out in request for the keys. “Doesn’t say anything about the owner having any rights whatsoever. So, cross my palm with silver.” He looked thoughtful for a moment. “Oh god, the keys aren’t silver are they? They’re not some poncy exclusive ‘perk’ thing to make all you over privivlged feel better than us pea-” The keys were slapped into his palm with what Merlin considered was unnecessary force.

“If it’ll make you shut up, then here, take them. But if you so much-”

“Yeah, yeah you’ll flay me and kill me a thousand ways, blah blah.” Merlin closed long fingers around the keys before taking the three steps necessary to punch in the keycode to open the locker room door. “Come along my meadow flower, your chariot awaits.”

As Arthur gathered his things, shoving various items from his locket into his backpack, Merlin leant against the stack of lockers and stared at the keys in his hand. Arthur trusted him, really trusted him, he had the proof in the palm of his hand. Arthur was allowing him to drive his stupidly expensive car, but more than that, the single tangible thing Arthur owned that showed Uther cared for him, even if it was the most ridiculous form of doing so, especially when what Arthur really needed, what he wanted was a hug. A clap on the shoulder with a stilted ‘well done’ wasn’t quite enough. Especially when Merlin knew from Morgana that Uther had followed that up with a complaint at Arthur’s score on his exams, that only a 90% meant he’d thrown away valuable points and had gone on to berate Arthur for wasting time taking an hours study break to have a coffee lunch with Morgana a week before the exams. There were days Merlin really wanted to punch Uther, to grab him by the lapels and just show him the wonderful man Arthur was, and tell him that Arthur was that way in spite of Uther, not because.

“Come on,” Arthur tugged on Merlin’s sleeve, tone suggesting he’d tried to get his attention a couple times already.

The morning air was chill, the natural light a shock after more than half a day under the stark fluorescents, the lack of their perpetual hum deafening for a heartbeat before the sounds of traffic long dulled by the thick walls of the hospital replaced it.

Reaching Arthur’s car, the both slung their bags into the backseat and clambered in, Merlin taking a couple minutes to readjust all the mirrors and chair and steering wheel height to his needs. The adjustments weren’t much; he and Arthur were almost of a height.

“Don’t touch this button. Or this nob. Or this lever thing. Or this,” he pointed at a button, “mostly because I don’t know what it does and I don’t want to find out now.”

“Maybe it shoots RPGs from the front headlights.” Merlin joked, “pew, pew!” he made little guns with his fingers, miming shooting at the wall opposite before grabbing the wheel and pretending to drive like a lunatic.

“You are not helping.” Arthur complained. “Excalibur is my-”

Merlin whirled on Arthur, right arm banging into the steering wheel in his haste, leg hitched up onto the driver’s seat to look at his friend. Arthur felt himself blush, hoping against hope the other man wouldn’t be able to see in the slight gloom of the car.

“There is a God. And a Santa. And an Easter Bunny,” Merlin crowed. “Please tell me you didn’t name your car ‘Excalibur’.” He burst into laughter, tears welling at the corner of his eyes as he doubled up, not caring that Arthur was beating his around the head and shoulders.

“Does- does- Mo-”

“No Morgana does not know, and you are not going to tell her. Or Gwen. Or anyone actually.”

“This is brilliant,” Merlin managed around the lessening laughter, smirking at Arthur’s irritated face, the blush having spread down his neck now, but he did try to hide his amusement. He knew what this car meant to Arthur and if he wanted to name it then, he wanted to name it. Even if it was ridiculous.

“If you so much as breathe a word,”

“I won’t, I swear.”

“Stop laughing, get it out of your system, because if you so much as mention this ever again,” he raised a fist at Merlin, which just set him off again.  
“Sorry, sorry,” Merlin tried, sounding anything but.

“Pull yourself together, Emrys, I want to go home. Though God knows if we’ll survive you driving, in rush hour traffic, in London.”

“You’ll have to give me directions,” Merlin instructed, resettling in his seat, mouth still pulled wide by his grin, clicking his seatbelt into place and staring at Arthur.  
“Are you going to be able to put your seat on by yourself like a big boy, or do you need me to do it for you?”

Arthur didn’t respond, instead scowling as he reached for his belt, aware that Merlin caught his wince.

Excalibur, and Merlin was sure he’d forever call it that in his head, drove like a dream, a gentle purr disguising the power of the engine, not that he got to really let rip given for the first twenty minutes of the drive they sat bumper to bumper. Merlin pitied the poor people heading to work until he remembered he was trying to get home to sleep.

“God, I need a drink.” He muttered, uncaring of the morning time.

“Actually, you owe me a pint.” Arthur declared, pointing for Merlin to take the next left.

“Oh no, my fair maiden, no alcohol for you. Besides I saved you, why do you get the pint? You owe me a pint. Isn’t that how the rewarding of heroic rescuing normally takes place?” Merlin looked thoughtful for a moment. “Although, technically isn’t a kiss more traditionally appropriate?” He tried desperately to keep the hope out of his voice. Even a mocking kiss would be better than none at all. _‘How low you have sunk, Emrys. How very low.’_

“If you’re casting yourself as Prince Charming in this sad little tale, then you are dreaming.” Arthur scoffed, wincing when Merlin didn’t depress the clutch enough, the engine grinding.

Merlin sighed, but he’d known it had been unlikely. ‘There’s still Christmas. The nurses in Ealdor went mad last year with the tinsel. And the younger patients always insist on it.’

“Besides, what’s going to happen, you’ll be right there.”

“Nothing is going to happen-”

“Ha!”

“-because you’re not having a pint. Or a half. Or a shot. Or so much as one solitary, single, sip. Nothing. Nada. Zero drinko for Arthur-o.”

“You’ve been spending too much time with Gwaine.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” Merlin agreed readily.  
*** **** ****  
Relatively unscathed they returned to Arthur’s, dumping their bags just over the threshold as they stepped off the lift, before heading to the kitchen to find something, anything to eat.

As if on cue, Merlin’s stomach growled and he suddenly felt ravenous.

“You’re a bottomless pit. Eat me out of house and home.” Arthur complained as he filled the toaster, laying out more slices in preparation.

Merlin got the message that lay beneath the words, ‘Thank you. For staying. For caring. Thank you,’ and quietly retrieved the butter, turning to push Arthur onto one of the breakfast bar stools.

“I love your cutlery drawer,” Merlin mentioned as he dug out a knife to butter his tower of toast.

“That’s because you and Gwaine only have plastic cutlery.” Arthur snatched the knife to butter his own toast before handing it back while taking a bite.  
“He’s very proud of the collection. He got it from that new Waitrose on the hill. Every day he stole another set. You should see our new napkin stack, it’s about two feet high now. And now, you can have your own pre-packed set. You’d appreciate that, very sterile.”

“Because your kitchen is such a freaking health hazard. It makes eating at yours…interesting.” Arthur decided, “What do you do when you need to cut something tough?”

“Well, Gwaine just doesn’t. He picks it up and bites into it.” Merlin raided the fridge for jam, triumphantly dumping all four found jars onto the counter, happily slathering inch thick layers of each onto his toast, wrinkling his nose at the first one he tried, checking the label to remind himself not to try it again.

The peal of a ringtone cut through their companionable eating, Arthur tugging his own phone free and swallowing hard before answering.

“Father.” Merlin’s head snapped up, taking in how Arthur had sat upright, back straight as a ruler.

“No, it’s fine. I’m fine.”

Arthur listened to whatever his father was saying, looking longingly at the toast.

“Just concussion. No….he’s here actually.” Arthur held the phone out to Merlin, who shook his head wildly, refusing to take the phone.

“Oh for God-” Failing to get the phone into Merlin’s hands, Arthur just hauled him in to his side, trapping him there with one arm and shoving the phone to Merlin’s ear with the other. Beaten, Merlin took a deep breath.

“Hello, sir,”

“Doctor Emrys. I wanted to thank you personally for what you did last night; you showed incredible loyalty to the hospital and to my son, above and beyond the duty of your post.”

“Th-thank you, sir.”

“You have a promising career before you Doctor Emrys.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Arthur let him go, returning the phone to his own ear, only to find his father had hung up without a word. Charming. But no less than he was used to from his father.

“So what did he want?”

“He wanted to thank me. For saving your life.” Merlin managed to appear smug despite the adrenaline still coursing through his veins. “So clearly that’s what happened.”

“You-”

“Ah, ah,” Merlin admonished as Arthur lunged at him, “I showed you and the hospital ‘incredible loyalty’. Went ‘above and beyond’. I shouldn’t think your father would be happy if you broke me. It would be ungrateful. Give me just ten seconds to bask in my own sheer brilliance.”

“Just eat your toast oh brave one.”

“Trust you to ruin the afterglow  
**** **** ****  
There was barely any light in the room when Merlin woke, the black-out curtains doing their work well, only the lighter shade of dark around the curtains letting him know it was still daytime. A quick glance at his watch told him it had been just under an hour since the last time he’d woken to check on Arthur. No matter how much the other man grumbled every time he woke him and asked him a series of questions, there was always that moment when he saw Arthur asleep, that moment between opening the door and moving to the bed that Merlin’s mind listed all the ways Arthur could have died whilst Merlin slept twenty feet away, all of them preventable if Merlin had taken better care, had forced Arthur to stay in hospital overnight, insisted on staying awake himself and watching Arthur sleep. That had been vetoed vehemently when suggested, Arthur dubbing it ‘extraordinarily creepy’.

The reverse journey was much more pleasurable and painful. Arthur slipped back into sleep moments after he finished reciting whatever song lyrics Merlin had used as a short-term memory check and Merlin would stand there and linger, watching how Arthur’s face relaxed in sleep, how his hair was gorgeously and adorably sleep rumpled, the muscles in his shoulders and arms on display while Arthur slept in only pyjama bottoms, the dip of his spine revealed by a duvet thrown aside some time in the night. To be so near and yet so far.

But it was time to do it all again. He clambered out of bed, already missing the cosy soft nest he’d made for himself, limbs still heavy with sleep and exhaustion, slipping his mobile into his pocket, just in case, wincing as the door creaked loudly as it opened.

“I’m in here."

Merlin most certainly did not leap three feet in the air and squeak like a tiny kitten. Absolutely not.

“Did you jus-”

“Shut up. And no.” Merlin trotted down the stairs still clumsy as he rubbed sleep out of his eyes with his fists like a child, strolling into the living room to find Arthur draped over the couch, book in hand.

“Why are you up?”

“Couldn’t sleep.” Putting a marker in the book he shut it and placed it on the table side table just in reach, ignoring Merlin’s frown at having found him reading, expecting a lecture that it’d not help his headache.

“What’s the time?” Merlin asked, folding into his favourite chair, resting his head against the arm.

“About forty five minutes later than the last time you asked me to repeat my full name, your full name and the symptoms of Gwaine text earlier, day shift heading to the pub later if you want?”

“Can I take a shower here?”

“After me. Last time you went through the entire thirty gallon water tank, wastrel.”

“That’s fine,” Merlin muttered, already falling back asleep.

The shrill tone of his phone woke him from his slumber, almost falling from his chair as he fumbled in his pocket.

“Mm’llo” He managed, eyes shut as he snuggled back down.

“My boy,” Gaius’ concern was loud and clear. “I heard what happened. You kept your head on your shoulders despite an extraordinary situation. Though how you and Arthur always manage to put yourself in mortal peril, I will never know.”

“Oh, yeah.”

“I am incredibly proud of you.” Merlin felt the smile spread across his face, his heart clenching as his uncle praised him. He could hardly choke out his response, trying to keep his voice steady.

“Wow, it’s a good night to be me; Arthur's thanking me, Uther's grateful, you're proud... I have never been this popular!"

"I'm almost certain it won't last."

"Just let me enjoy the moment."

“Do try your best to keep yourself out of trouble. For an old man’s heart.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t go looking for trouble.

“No,” Gaius agreed, “It manages to find you all on it’s own.”  
*** **** ****  
“Right, I’m parking you here,” the young woman was dragging the wheelchair behind her, her male companion watching the world go by backwards.

“What do you mean, parking me here?!” The young man was obviously drunk, his voice far too loud. His friend ignored him, dropping exhaustedly into the armchair beside the unoccupied bed. “You gonna get onto the bed?” She asked, though she was ignored as he got up and explored the bays around his own, peeking around curtains, and generally making a nuisance of himself. Heaving herself up the woman took a hold of a handful of his shirt and tugged him back to his bay, smiling apologetically at the old couple he’d disturbed, whispering “sorry” as she did.

Hauling him back to the bed, she pushed him to sitting on it  
“So what are you going to tell them?” She asked laughing as he took her hands and kissed them.

'I'll say what happened."

“Can’t tell them that!”

“Why not? We were having sex not worshipping the devil!”

“Shhh,” she pleaded, covering her face with her hand as she dragged the curtain closed, only for Elena to pop through, tray of needles and vials in her hand, balanced precariously on a file.

“Hi. Sorry for the wait, we’ve had a lot of early Halloween revellers. You’re David Walters?”

“Yup,” David answered.

“Great, I’ve just got to ask some questions and then we can get started ok?”

At his nod she held out the printed wristband contained in his file. “Can you confirm this is you and your details are correct?”

David’s eyes didn’t seem to track very well but his girlfriend looked it over and nodded.

“Great,” Elena wrapped the identity cuff around his wrist. “This is just in case you need to be admitted.” She tugged the tray closer. “I’m just going to take some blood now,” she wrapped a tourniquet around his upper arm, “make a fist for me.” To help the vein pop a little more she slapped the skin and wiped it over with an alcohol swab, efficiently taking the blood. She passed a bottle to David. “If you can give us a urine sample too, that’d be great.” Collecting her things together she turned back.

“Your next to be seen and you can tell the doctor, but out of curiosity, what happened?”

“Her cunt happened,” David answered easily.

“David!” His girlfriend smacked him across the back of his head automatically before slapping her hands over her mouth as she remembered his injury.  
“Oh God, I’m sorry,” she tripped over her words, “but you can’t just say that.”

“What? Kate, it’s true. You and your hypnotic cunt bewitched me.” He seemed pleased with his answer, confused as to why Kate wasn’t.

Kate leant close to Elena, “We were having sex, and-” she shook her head as she tried to make sense of what had happened. “He just sorta stopped and passed out or fell or something and he hit his head.”

 

“I’ve broken a rib having sex, don’t worry and don’t be embarrassed. We’re far more concerned with why he passed out than the sex.”

“The rib, was it good sex?” The girlfriend asked, curiosity warring with embarrassment.

Elena grinned. “Hell yeah.”

“So was this. As long as it lasted.” Kate blushed. “And I’m sorry he’s being so loud and, uh, rude. He was given gas-

“Gas and air fucking rocks.” David opined from the bed, tapping at his mouth with two fingers. “I’m still kinda in pain, put I don’t care about it so much and my lips are tingly.”

“I’ve had gas and air.” Elena confided. “It’s illegal here as a recreational drug, but it’s legal in Spain. Had it at a party. It’s good right?” David nodded, like a child.

“But we've got some kids and that in so how about we keep the four letter words to a minimum? Yeah. And now you’re off it, the effects are gonna start to wear off pretty fast, you want anti-nausea?”

“Yeah.”

Moving to the nurse’s station, Elena successfully evaded one of the small children she’d mentioned, and if he could run around like that, verbalise and engage, then there wasn’t really anything that wrong. He’d be best at home, but new parents rarely listened; one small cough and it was straight to A&E.

“I’m going to manfully not ask how you broke a rib having sex.” Arthur greeted her at the nurse’s station.

“And I won’t tell Merlin how were talking about how you want to marry him.”

“What?” Arthur shrieked, before getting a hold of himself and modulating his volume. “I never-”

“You did! When you were coming round after the Mordred thing,” she crowed.

“I didn’t.”

“I really like him,” she simpered, a truly terrible impression of Arthur’s voice. “He’s so pretty and funny and hot and pretty. And his mouth, his mouth…I’d marry him for his mouth alone. And his ass. And that smile. Oh and his fingers.” Elena waggled her eyebrows as she jumped back to avoid Arthur’s flailing attempts to stop her, knocking over a rolling tray, that was thankfully unburdened. “He’s so nice. And he’s brave, did you see how brave?”

“He’s an idiot,” Arthur interjected, face flaming as he reached for his friend again, slapping his hand over her mouth to quiet her lies, but she easily pulled it away.

“Yes you mentioned that too. But you went on to say you could forgive him that because he was so hot. And brave. And bravely hot. And hotly brave. Sexy.” Her amusement obviously knew no bounds as she teased him, laughing as she rifled through a couple cabinets to get the equipment she needed before filing in the relevant information on David’s paperwork while her shoulders shook.

“You free?” She asked, not looking up from where she was marking in the medication she was about to administer. When only silence greeted her, she looked up into her friend’s face.

“Oh, Arthur. I’m not going to tell him.” She patted his hand, only slightly stabbing him with the ballpoint, and his expression lost some of its terror. “But you should.”

Aaaand the terror was back.

“Arthur, everyone knows how you two feel about each other. Except you two. There’s nothing to be scared of, I swear.”

“Who said I was scared?” Arthur blustered to buy time.

“Me. Morgana. Gwaine just thinks you’re both stupid.”

“He’s stupid,” Arthur replied, more out of reflex than anything though he still stood stock still, eyes still wide, wider still as something occurred to him.

“You’ve told Morgana this haven’t you?” He grimaced and dropped his head to the desk and groaned at her smile.

She punched him, hard, in the arm. “Now, get back to work. There’s a drunk, kinda stoned, definitely in love boy that needs your help.”  
**** **** ****  
“Are you going to the Halloween party?” Gwen asked as she slid into their booth.

“Me?” Merlin asked, “Um, I’m not going.” Gwen looked disappointed but resigned, knowing full well that she wouldn’t be able to talk him into it. “I’m on call. Lots of people get so far beyond pissed that they pretty much replace their blood with alcohol. And the kids,” he whistled, “They chow down enough sweets to become diabetic. And then you get the diabetic kids that sneak out and eat something they shouldn’t.” Merlin shook his head. “Last year, it was not pretty in the A&E in Ealdor. And I always feel so sorry for the paramedics.”

At Gwen’s confused look, Merlin continued. “This year, all the big Halloween parties are gonna be this Saturday, it’s the closest weekend to the actual date.” Gwen nodded; the hospital’s party fell on the 27th as well. “And this year, the clocks go back on said Saturday. Which means if the paramedics are with a patient at the time the clocks go back from two to one, they have to work another hour making it a thirteen hour shift, while the ones that come on shift after, only have the normal twelve and if they’re with a patient at the new two o’clock they have to stay with that patient until they’re processed which can be another hour.” He nodded at Gwen’s look of shock and pity for the paramedics. “Sucks, doesn’t it?”

“I guess that’s the joy of my job, it’s pretty nine to five.” Gwen laughed, “well, eight-thirty to four-thirty. Unless someone goes really insane,” she screwed her face up, “which has happened, but I didn’t know until much later. Mental health issues and PCP. Not a good mix.”

Whistling, Merlin agreed. “You and Lance going?”

“Yup.”

“You’re going in matching his and hers costumes aren’t you?”

“Ummm.”

“Please tell me they’re not cutesy.”

“No, they’re pretty good. Last year we went as Olive Oyl and Popeye.” Merlin smiled, “Not bad.”

“I was Popeye.”

Merlin’s mouth fell open and he stared, eyebrows climbing to his hair.

“Please tell me you have pictures.” He grabbed at her hand, almost upsetting her wine. “I will give you my firstborn.”

“No need for that, from the way Lance goes on about starting a family, I think we’re going to have a hundred or so kids so no need to fob yours off on us.”

“So what are you going as this year?”

“Well, to get him to agree to drag last year, I had to promise to let him choose this year. I think its Buttercup and Dread Pirate.”

“Nice.”

“I really only saw a black mask so could be Zorro but yeah, I’m guessing Princess Bride.”

“Gwaine hasn’t been hiding his costume.” Merlin shuddered at the memory of stumbling from his room only to run smack into Gwaine. All of Gwaine. He had not been prepared. He was still not mentally equipped to deal with it.

“What’s he going as? He tends to just pick whatever shows the most skin. Last year he was Tarzan, year before he was a gladiator, and I think,” her face screwed up as she tried to remember, “I think he was some famous swimmer or something.”

“I don’t know if I should spoil the surprise.”

“What surprise?” Arthur dropped onto the bench seat, shoving at Merlin to make him move over.

“Hey,” he protested, pushing back, Arthur retaliating by trying to kick at his shins under the table, only to kick Gwen.

“Ow,” she shrieked, “quit it. I feel like a mother. Or a headmistress.”

“Kinky,” Arthur teased, “pencil skirt, tight shirt, high heels, dark glasses. Yardstick.” he leered at her before winking. “I think Lance-”

“Shut it you.”

“So what surprise,” Arthur nudged at Merlin’s shoulder, stealing a chip.

“Gwaine’s Halloween costume.”

“Oh God, please tell me it’s not another loincloth.”

“Nope. No, definitely not a loincloth.” Merlin smacked Arthur’s hand as it snuck towards his pint, trying to avoid having to get up and order, lazy sod that he was.

“No! Bad Arthur. Mine,” so saying he swallowed back the remains of his beer, trying not to belch as a result, triumphant as he plopped the empty glass onto the table.

“When you get up for another, I’ll have a Waggledance.”

“That’s nice Arthur. It’s good to have a dream.” Merlin sat back, relaxing, shifting his chips further away from Arthur’s searching fingers.

“So, are you going to tell us what Gwaine’s costume is?” Gwen asked as she waved at Elyan behind the bar, holding up three fingers and nodding as he pointed at the right tap, mouthing a thank you.

“Aww, Gwen, you should have made him get up!”

“And listen to you two go on for hours, no thank you. In penance for being kicked in the shins during your skit, I want to know what his costume is. I need to know how much I have to prepare myself for sharing a cab with him.”

“What costume?” Elyan asked as he dropped off their beers, waving away the tenner that Arthur proffered, sighing as Arthur reached over to try to stuff it into his pocket, missing and tucking it into Elyan’s waistband instead.

“You need me to do a little dance to really earn that?” He began to sway his hips, unfastening the top button on his shirt, while he hummed.

“Elyan!” Gwen complained, throwing her hand over her eyes in defence.

“Your friend here started it.”

“I didn’t!”

“Okay,” Elyan shrugged, hips stilling, faint smile tugging at his lips. “So what costume?”

“Gwaine’s Halloween costume. He goes for as much skin as possible.”

“And this year he’s achieved it.”

All three turned to Merlin.

“You really want to know?” At their nods, he took a large swig of his beer. “He’s going to the party as Michaelangelo’s David.”

“As in-”

“Yes.”

“ Only a fig-”

“Yes. Literally. Stuck on.”

“…”

“Oh.”  
*** *** ***  
“Wait, wait for it, wait for it-” Morgana flapped a hand for silence, Gwen holding back a laugh at her friend’s excitement. Looking out the window she scanned the crowd for who Morgana was focused on, quickly picking out the trio of girls in towering heels fighting against the cold, short skirts billowing in the vicious early November wind, huddled together, and clinging onto each other’s arms for stability.

“And the contestants are entering the gate,” Merlin spluttered his coffee, efficiently spraying the table in front of him, narrowly missing Gwen, who rolled her eyes before reaching over to the table next to them to swipe a couple napkins, tossing them at him with a scowl.

“Aaaaand they’re off,” Morgana continued as the women turned left out of the lee of building and straight into the wind tunnel that was always created due to the layout of the high street. “They’re around the first corner, Blondie having a wobble there, but she’s recovered and making up ground well.”

“You’re a horrible person,” Arthur remarked as he watched how happy his friend was. He knew that these moments would only last for so long, before December began and the anniversary of her father’s death would weigh heavy upon her.

“She is isn’t she?” Gwen agreed.

“They’ve evaded the wet metal manhole cover, classic manoeuvre there with the use of the wall for balance, but oh, they’ve hit the icy pavement. Are we possibly going to have a fall? It is not Blondie’s day, a definite wobble there, oh and a slip, she’s heavily reliant on her friends and oh, oh they’re down, they’re down.”

Morgana was practically bouncing in her seat as the entire group slammed onto the pavement in a mass of flailing limbs and towering heels.

“They could be hurt.” Gwen objected, as a couple of men on the street hurried to help them up.

“Eh, shadenfreude. Besides, five inch heels after a freeze? On a hill? That is evolution in action. Darwinism is protecting the human race.” She gestured towards the huddled mass of people on the hill that were struggling to their feet, “And see, they’re fine.” Not seeing any new contestants, she turned back to the group, properly looking at Arthur and Merlin for the first time.

“Late night?” she asked, as she took in their enormous cups of coffee and bruise-dark eyes.

“The pool table arrived at The Smithy yesterday. While you lot were all still recovering from prancing around in fancy dress, Merlin and I took it for a test run. Both on call, it’s five minutes from the hospital and we stuck to coke.”

“And?”

“And I kicked his arse.” Merlin proclaimed, smugness radiating from every pore as he slurped on his ridiculous confection that Arthur was sure had no relation to coffee whatsoever.

“Aww, poor Arthur.” Morgana mocked, reaching over to pat Arthur on the head. “Did it bring back traumatising memories of when I used to beat you until such time as I no longer lowered myself to your standard?”

Batting at her hands with more fervour than accuracy, Arthur fended her off, smoothing his hair back down, though Merlin, watching over the rim of his coffee mug with amusement, thought the mussed look was far more attractive.

“No it did not, you harpy. Because that never happened.”

“If you say,” Morgana agree airily, patting Merlin on the head instead who simply grinned at her.

“Besides, it wasn’t a fair test.”

“Oh here we go again,” Merlin taking a deep gulp of his coffee.

“What? It’s a widely known fact; pool abilitly is not judged by how well you win sober, but by how good you are when you’re drunk. When we’re not on call, we’ll see who the champion is.”

Morgana and Merlin rolled their eyes at each other.

“Next time we’ll play drunk,” assured Merlin, patting Arthur on the knee before rubbing at his thigh a little. Arthur really hoped nobody could see how he jumped and blushed a little, pressing his leg closer to Merlin’s.  
*** *** ***  
Sat in the group’s booth at The Smithy, Morgana was pretty sure she could taste blood from all the biting of her tongue she was doing. It was ridiculous. Months now these two idiots had danced around each other and they’d all been sure it was some elaborate mating dance, all the goading and teasing and sarcasm, but here they were weeks later and nothing. And the only two people on the planet oblivious to how each man felt about the other were Merlin and Arthur. Even now as she sat talking with them they were staring at each other as though she didn’t exist, gazing their fill when the other glanced away, and to go along with her bitten tongue were their bitten lips and blush flush cheeks. Any yet, still, no dice. If she thought it would work she’d cast a love spell on them or something. Anything. She was getting desperate. Hell she’d snog Merlin if she thought it would make Arthur jealous.

‘Oh. Oh please let it be this easy.’ Smirking to herself she turned to Merlin, interrupting another riveting game of ‘stare deeply into each other’s eyes’.

“You know, the Christmas party is gonna be soon-”

“It’s not for, what, six or seven weeks, Morgana,” Arthur interjected.

“And,” Morgana continued sweetly as if she hadn’t heard, “you are not going to want to be dateless for it.”

“Who say’s I’ll be dateless?” Merlin asked, offended. Morgana almost laughed at how fast Arthur’s head moved, his eyes narrowed at Merlin.

“Oh, and who will you be taking?” Arthur’s tone was dangerous, low.

Merlin ducked his head, shrugging, waving his hands, “Well, nobody yet. But I’m not totally hopeless.”

“And who gave you that impression?”

“People nicer and less arrogant than you,” Merlin blew a kiss at his friend.

“Is there someone at the hospital?” Morgana fished.

“Well,” Merlin hedged.

 _‘Finally, yes come on’._  
“Please tell me it’s not Edwin.” Arthur scoffed, throwing back his head to bark a harsh laugh.

 _‘Fuck.’_ Morgana had been so close. She watched as Merlin’s face shut down, the smile a little less real, his eyes a little less bright. ‘So close.’

“No. Jackass.”

 _‘Try, try, try again.’_ Morgana thought.

“You could always try online dating,” she offered.

“I am not dating online!” Merlin bellowed, barely audible over Arthur’s laughter. Elyan, behind the bar, looked up alarmed before shaking his head when he saw the culprit. Catching Morgana’s eye he gestured between the two men and she grimaced, shrugging one shoulder, and mouthed ‘trying’, at him. He nodded and went back to his work.

“Why not?” Morgana asked, “It’s not like it’s got such a stigma attached to it anymore. I met Morgause that way.”

“Oh, and that was such a good example of a healthy relationship.” Arthur scoffed, leaning back out of reach of Morgana’s reach when she went to punch at him. At Merlin’s confused look, Arthur explained.

“Morgause and Morgana met on,” he turned to Morgana, snapping his fingers as he tried to remember which site she’d used, “what was it, ‘Har-”

“E-Harmony.”

“Totally classic. Morgause was anything but harmonious. Total cougar.”

Morgana snorted and rolled her eyes, curling her lip at Arthur’s amusement before slapping one well-manicured hand over his mouth. Turning to Merlin, she explained.

“She was lovely once you knew her.” Over Arthur’s muffled disagreement, she continued. “Which I did. Yes she was intense, and yes,” she glowered at Arthur who batted his eyelashes at her, “she was a little older than she had said.” Even muffled it was clear what Arthur thought of that statement. “But she was incredibly intelligent, beautiful and she helped me to learn a lot about myself and what I want and need from life.”

Arthur used both hands to pry Morgana’s from his mouth. “So why aren’t you still together, hmmm? Could it be because of the fact she was a total witch who tried to separate you from your friends?” Arthur wheedled, slinging an arm around his friend’s shoulders.

“Not all relationships are meant to last forever. Doesn’t mean they failed.” She answered primly, downing the remains of her gin and tonic. “Anyway, I still think you should think about it. Both of you,” she smiled at Arthur, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek just to watch him scrub at his cheek with his sleeve. “Neither of you have dated since,” she pretended to think about it, “Merlin transferred. The party will be here sooner than you think, and Merlin,” she turned to her friend, “Arthur can tell you what it’s like to turn up to that alone. Doc Jocks will descend on you like flies on shit.”

And with that charming image, she waved to someone on the other side of the pub as a flood of people streamed through the doors; the local stage shows all ended within twenty minutes of each other, patrons spilling out of the theatres and into the nearby pubs, making getting service near impossible for about an hour. Those, like Merlin and Arthur, ordered double shortly before the onslaught arrived rather than fight the hordes.

Morgana was swallowed up in the crowd in seconds, leaving the two men in her wake.

“So,” Arthur started, sucking his teeth in discomfort, “been convinced?”

“Noooo,” Merlin enunciated firmly.

“Really? The whole ‘click, pick, dick’ thing not for you?”

“No,” Merlin restated, his tone suggestive that Arthur had hit a nerve and that no matter how much Arthur was dying to keep pressing at it, that it was time to back off. Besides it wasn’t as if he actually did want Merlin to date anyone. Other than himself anyway.

“What about you?” Merlin asked after ten incredibly awkward seconds, proud of the light and almost disinterested tone he achieved.

“Me? No.” Arthur rolled his drink between the palms of his hands. “Call me old-fashioned but,” he shrugged, “I want to meet someone, in the park or at a concert or on the train,” ‘or in the hospital pharmacy and this pub, and my flat,’ “and just talk, no strings, become friends.” He took a swig of beer to hide the crack in his voice, and looked up at Merlin, “And I know people say you can do that online but…I don’t want to meet someone and always catch myself thinking ‘oh that’s not how I imagined your voice would sound like’ or ‘you’re laugh is different to what I thought it would be’. I want to already know those things.” He stared deep into Merlin’s eyes, their familiar blue soft and warm as Merlin stared back and it was suddenly so much less embarrassing to be saying all this out loud.

“Yeah, me too,” Merlin murmured, unwilling, unable to break the contact, hardly blinking. To the outside world they probably looked in the midst of a staring contest, but Merlin was no longer even aware of the throng mere inches away.

Until, just as he went to open his mouth, to dare to ask Merlin on a date, a complete stranger landed on his lap. Breaking their gaze.  
And the moment.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry,” the woman babbled, trying to stand up and managing only to press her hand down onto Arthur’s crotch, yanking it back as though on fire. “Oh god, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Arthur grit out, grasping her flailing hands and helping her to her feet, handing her off to her blushing friend, waving away their continued apologies, feeling how his knees were weak, his hands shaking as he stood. Just from eye contact.

“No, really, no harm done. No, please, I couldn’t,” he objected when they both offered to buy him a drink in restitution. He wasn’t interested in either of them, the only person he wanted he was desperately trying not to look at in case he’d been about to embarrass himself.

Arthur wasn’t too sure what he’d have been about to do, but he was pretty sure it would have involved climbing onto the table, settling into Merlin’s lap and dry-humping him to exhaustion, regardless of the audience.  
*** *** ***  
Arthur already had his phone in his hands, expecting the call that came minutes after he’d waved at Merlin’s retreating back, no longer questioning how Morgana knew these things even when she appeared to have left hours previous and after the first ring he slid his thumb across the screen and answered.  
“Arthur, time for a word?” It wasn’t a question.

“If I didn’t I don’t think it’d matter. To what do I owe this pleasure?

“Well, I was worried about you. You were weird at the pub. I’m sure others didn’t notice but-”

“Just a bit tired.”

“Really? I thought the reason you were so distracted had something to do with the fact that Merlin was in the room.”

“I have no idea what you're talking about.” Arthur denied as he got into his car to shut out the cold, starting the engine to get some hot air circulating.

“Come on, Arthur. Why can't you admit you have feelings for him? A blind man could see it.”

Arthur winced. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t figured as much but to hear it put so baldly was still uncomfortable.

“Is it really that obvious?

“It's only so obvious to me because, well, because I know Merlin fancies you. Always has.”

That was almost enough to have him hopeful, though he was always hesitant to believe Morgana. “Has he said something?

“Does he have to have? The way he looks at you, the way he always talks about you, and I know for a fact he thinks you’re gorgeous.”

“What did he say?”

“Ha! Like I’ll tell you.“ Arthur scowled. “You’re already way too assured of your beauty and I for one am not feeding your ego.”

“He’s uh… he’s not the only one.”

“I know you think you’re gorgeous.” Arthur knew what Morgana was doing, trying to give him the room to relax, that this wasn’t something she’d tease him mercilessly about.

“Ha ha ha.”

“It’s not as if anything could happen.”

“This isn’t the middle-ages Arthur.” Morgana chided. “Why can’t you be together?

Arthur sighed heavily, shaking his head. “You know father went ballistic when I came out.” He stared blindly out the windscreen. “He was only appeased when I dated Lord Bayard’s son. Merlin? He’d go insane.”

“Uther knows nothing of love, despite his current disturbing flirtation with being stupid with it. Besides, he likes Merlin. Well, precisely he likes Merlin’s loyalty to you and to the hospital but it’s better than nothing.”

“I don’t date within the hospital.”

“Get over it.”

“It’d ruin our friendship if he turns me down.”

“Lame. Did you look these excuses up online or something? Merlin isn’t going to turn you down, you’re not going to lose his friendship and look at Lance and Gwen, at Percy and Freya-”

“There is something there isn’t there?”

“Don’t try and distract me.”

“Damn.”

“You should just, pull your finger out. Ask him to the Christmas party.”

“That’s still weeks away.”

“Arthur,” Morgana huffed, “Merlin is smart, funny and gorgeous. Other guys are figuring this out and they’re snapping at your heels. I’m not saying your first date has to the party, that’d be stupid. Just ask him to it. As your date. Get the conversation started and voila.” He could hear her snapping her fingers.

“Okay.” The silence on the phone went on so long he thought the call had disconnected.

“Morgana?”  
“Yeah, I’m here. I just… I thought you’d be harder to convince.”

“Guess I just trust you’re right.”

“See, you’re finally seeing the light.”  
*** *** ***  
“You’re friend has gone up to X-Ray.” Merlin mentioned as he hustled past Bay Twelve, on his way out, tugging on his jacket, stopping when he caught sight of the man inside investigating a cut on his arm.

“Do you need treatment? Let me see.” Merlin dropped the signed off files he’d been about to drop off onto the bed, rolling over a stool to straddle.

“No, no it’s just a scratch.”

“Are you sure?” Merlin tried to get a look at the wound. “Really, I’m pretty sure all that medical training would be wasted if I didn’t take a look.”

“It’s just a nick, I’m fine.” Frowning, Merlin rolled back a little to let the man pull his sleeve. “I’m Gilli,” the man thrust his hand out. His grip was tight, holding Merlin’s hand several seconds longer than he was comfortable with. “He’s not my friend.”

“Hmmm?”

“The guy I came in with. He started a bar fight, I decked him. Thought I’d make sure he was okay.”

Merlin was surprised. He’d have thought Gilli the type to get the shit beaten out of him in a bar, not the hero that stopped one. “I’m stronger than I look,” Gilli grunted, sitting up straight.

“No, no.” Merlin covered, “Just most people these days, they wouldn’t do the honourable thing.” Gilli relaxed, smiling. “My dad raised me right.”

“Well,” Merlin consulted the notes on the bed, “Nolar,” he raised an eyebrow but guessed that he couldn’t exactly throw stones even though he loved his name, "then is in X-ray."

“I don’t normally go around punching people,” Gilli suddenly asserted with a nod.

“That’s…admirable.”

“VIolence? That’s just not me. But he needed stopping and I was there. I just forgot about the ring.” He lifted the hand with a heavy gold signet ring on it. “My dad gave it me. I think it might have done some damage.”

“Possibly, but probably mostly soft tissue damage.”

“I musta been a surprise for him. It could easily have been me getting injured.”

“Well, this cut is a bit of an injury, but I’m sure it was worth it, to know you saved that young woman from God knows what.” Merlin was all too well they both knew exactly what would have likely happened to the woman who sat two bays away with a nurse and female Constable, giving her statement.

“Of course, more than worth it.” Gilli seemed to think about it for a moment before continuing. “It was nice though, for a minute, I’ve got to admit. Having that respect for even a little bit.” He smiled at Merlin, eyes roving over his features, leaning closer infinitesimally.

“I know what that’s like.”

“No you don’t, you’re a doctor for God’s sake. Nobody knows what it’s like. But sometimes, sometimes you have to fight back a little; can’t always have the big boys winning.”

“Do you think because I’m a doctor I didn’t get the shit beaten out of me at school?” Merlin rolled back a little way on the stool to raise his eyebrows at Gilli. “I wasn’t always a doctor, and trust me, being the skinny, smart, gay kid made me the target of pretty much everyone.”

Gilli nodded. “I guess so. I’m sorry…it’s just…I’m so sick of being surrounded by the bully type that think they’re entitled to whatever they want and I have to give it to them.”

“Well, clearly you proved tonight that they’d have to fight for it.”

“I’m always willing to fight for what I want.” Gilli’s free hand curled around Merlin’s arm, eyes dark as he stared into Merlin’s eyes, smirk spreading across his face as he tightened his grip and leant closer still.

“Merlin?” Elena’s voice broke the moment and Gilli tugged his arm free, scrabbling something out of his pocket and snatching the pen from the table top just as Elena popped her head in.

“Sorry, I know you’re going but could you just help me find the file for the-ah.” Merlin plucked the file from the bed and handed it to her. “Sorry, was distracted bandaging Gilli’s arm. He came in with the police. He stopped the assault on--”

“Bay four,” concluded Elena. She smiled broadly at Gilli. “Awesome. World needs guys that stand up.” Her name called out from the main floor, she waved a good-bye with the file and zipped off.

“Here,” Gilli thrust a torn bit of paper at Merlin, with what appeared to be an old shopping list on it.

“Umm…”

“My number. I’d like to know you better.” With that Gilli stood up and walked out, slamming the green door release button at the exit and walking out into the night, leaving Merlin standing shell shocked in his wake, the piece of paper held tight in his hand.

**** **** ***  
“Hello Doctor Pendragon.” Before Arthur could even react, the woman had slid onto his lap, curling her arm around his neck and running her fingers through his hair.

“Do I-”

“I’m Vivian, Plastics. I was thinking how great it’d be if you took me to the Christmas Party. We’d look amazing together.”

“I’m sorry,” Arthur couldn’t even make himself sound it though, “but I already have someone I’m taking to the party.” _‘The minute I man up and ask him.’_ He smiled at the thought of walking into the party with Merlin on his arm, spending the night merrily mocking those around them, finding every clump of mistletoe to kiss under, the kisses longer, filthier the more spiked punch was consumed.

“He’s shabby looking and has appalling manners, is extremely forgetful and seems to spend most of his time running late or in the pub. But he is,” Arthur’s smile broadened as he firmly removed Vivian’s arm from around his neck and her hand from his thigh, where it was beginning to sneak towards his groin, “the man I…love.” He, not so gently, pushed her from his lap, not caring when she stumbled on her heels, a girlish and unattractive pout marring her face.

Her eyes grew steely behind the heavy liner and fan of fake eyelashes. She ran her hands, ostensibly to smooth her dress, down her sides but from the way she ran her hands over the flat planes of her stomach and down over her hips, she was clearly trying to use her body to change his mind. She cocked her weight onto one hip, flipping her hair over one shoulder and hooking her fingers into the already deep V of her dresses neckline for one last ditch try, cupping her breast with her hand.

There was a time he might have taken what was on offer, on a strictly one night only understanding but that was over a decade and one Merlin ago.

He stood and grabbed his coat off the back of the chair, securing the scarf around his neck. “So, whilst I’m sure you’re lovely, I’ll have to decline. If you’ll excuse me,” he nodded his goodbye, and headed towards the exit. He really needed to talk to Merlin.

Heading out the side door, he missed Merlin standing just outside the main door, leaning back against the wall, the sight of Arthur with Vivian on his lap playing over and over and over on the back of his lids. As much as he really wanted to get drunk now he wasn’t doing it at The Smithy.

Why had he even entertained the thought Arthur could be interested? He was the lanky, funny looking country boy. They were friends now, great friends he thought, but that was all. People like Arthur, intelligent, gorgeous, rich…they didn’t fall for guys like him.

Shoving his hand into his pocket, he felt the crumpled piece of paper he’d crammed there earlier.

Taking it out, he stared at the digits.

And reached for his phone.  
**** **** ****  
Moving as slow as some of his patients, Merlin picked out a pair of smart-ish jeans, which in Merlin’s case meant no holes and dark denim, reluctantly dragging them up his legs to fumble with the fastening. He pulled a long sleeve tee over his head, then stood before his chest of drawers trying to decide on what to put over the top.

Staring unseeing at the messy piles of clothing, he thought of how during every minute of the hour he’d spent so far on showering, ensuring the closest of shaves, attempting to style his hair and digging out the cologne that he so rarely used, he’d wanted to cancel, to do literally anything but go on this date, to turn back time. And he thought of how begrudgingly and reluctantly he’d made the date in the first place. He knew if it were Arthur he was meeting he’d have wanted to run straight from work wearing the scrubs he’d worked in just so that he’d have more time to spend with his date.

It wasn’t Gilli’s fault. Merlin just wasn’t interested. In anyone whose name didn’t start with Arthur and end in Pendragon. But this was the only way to start to get over his friend and keep their friendship; keep his desire for Arthur to himself and try to learn how to feel that way for someone else.

And the first of anything was always the worse. It was just like making pancakes; you had to be resigned to the first one being a discarded failure.

And hello rock bottom- he’d just compared a date with Gilli to a disaster a pancake.

Merlin sat heavily on his bed, bare toes digging into the carpet, trying to stop himself from reaching for the phone to cancel.

Via text.

When his phone started to ring, vibrating against the top of the bedside table, travelling slowly to the edge of the surface, he jumped, on some level assuming it was Gilli calling to confirm their date. A tiny bubble of rebellious hope surfaced that it was Gilli calling to cancel. And wasn’t that just the most intense relief. It’d save him having to make the uncomfortable excuse and pulling a dial and ditch.

It was only when he’d reached for the phone that he saw it was the hospital.

Oh praise the Lord.

“Emrys.” He answered.

“Doctor Emrys, you’re being called in.” A female voice informed him, one that sounded faintly familiar to Merlin though he couldn’t place it. “There’s been a multi-vehicle collision and ambulances are already en route. Sorry about your night off.” As efficiently as she’d imparted the information, the dispatcher rang off, no doubt to complete calling in all those needed to treat the incoming.

“Thank God.”

He wasn’t going on a date tonight. With Gilli or Arthur or anyone else. Guilt swamped him; he hadn’t wanted someone to have to be seriously injured, even die in order for him to avoid an uncomfortable few hours. But he would take it. Dialling Gilli’s number, he placed the phone on loudspeaker so he could shin out of his current clothing and throw them back onto the bed, squirming his way into jogging bottoms that he wasn’t bothered about getting ruined and a loose jumper that he’d stolen weeks ago from Arthur’s that was warm enough to fit off the November night during his sprint to the hospital.

Gilli answered on the fourth ring with a happy, “Merlin, are you-”

”Gilli, I am so sorry,” Merlin lied, “There’s been a pileup and my night off became a night on about two minutes ago.”

“Oh.” All of the excitement had drained from Gilli’s voice. “I guess that’s what I get for trying to date a doctor over the winter.”

Huffing a laugh, Merlin agreed. “Black ice everywhere and people over-indulging in ‘Christmas drinks’ despite the fact it’s still November. I’m sorry.” He repeated for good measure.

“Look, I’ve really got to go, but I’ll call you okay.” He had no intention of doing anything of the sort but it sounded good. Cutting off Gilli’s reply, he terminated the call, ran out the room, grabbed his jacket and slammed the door behind him.  
*** *** ***  
Shit.

The wounded were everywhere. Smeared in blood and tears, lying crippled on beds, and propped up in wheelchairs, some even sitting or lying on the floor.  
He heard the wail of a siren approaching, and gloved up in preparation for his next patient as he walked through the sliding doors. Stepping up to the ambulance as it screeched to a halt, Merlin grabbed the doors, throwing them wide.

His patient was lapsing in and out of consciousness by the time the paramedics unloaded her, head clamped still, face and blonde hair smeared red from the blood, but it was her hip and knee that worried Merlin the most; her right hip was definitely dislocated, knee crushed, her foot nearly 180 degrees out of alignment. As soon as the ambulance that’d brought her peeled away, another rushed to replace it, more nurses spilling from the door, jogging past Merlin as the medics gave him the rundown.

The woman screamed as the wheels hit a ridge, her hip and knee being jolted.

“Shit!”

“Sorry, sorry. Isolde, are you Isolde?” Merlin asked, double checking the woman’s identity gleaned from the driver’s license in the wallet the medics had found in the jacket from the car.

“Yes.” She confirmed, slurring the ‘s’, eyes roving wildly as she took in her surrounds. “What happened?”

“There was an accident, your car was involved. I need to ask you, have you any regular medication, anything that could complicate-”

“I’m pregnant.” Her voice cracked, tears leaking from her eyes. “My baby, is my baby okay?”

Merlin looked up at the medic who raised his eyebrows and shrugged, shaking his head that he didn’t know.

“We’re gonna get you into an exam room, and we’ll check on you and your baby.”

As they swept into an exam room Merlin called out for a portable ultrasound and an OB-GYN consult.  
*** *** ***  
Merlin pulled the door to the exam room closed, leaning against the wall, head tipped back, eyes closed. Her cry of agony as he’d relocated her hip, literally straddling her on the stretcher to force the joint into place had been nothing on the animalistic scream that had rent the air upon telling the young woman that the impact with the steering wheel had caused her to miscarry her child, her grief a living presence in the small room. She had begged to be allowed to die.

“Is that Isolde Runner in there?” Merlin let his head roll to the side and opened his eyes.

“Yeah,” he glanced at the papers in her hand. “Those her notes?”

“Her husband’s. Trist Runner. He’s with Arthur in the ambulance coming in.”

Merlin’s head snapped forward, the tray he held tumbling to the floor, tape, hypo and vials spilling across the floor, his knees buckling as his vision swam. He had the overwhelming sensation he was about to hit the deck.

 _‘No…no…why was it always Arthur in trouble? He couldn’t be hurt…not again…no please anything but that.’_  
  
He wanted to scream but he couldn’t get a breath. It was as if his lungs had forgotten how to draw in air, frozen like his heart, blood turning to ice in his veins as he started to tremble. For a moment he thought he was going to vomit across Freya’s shoes.

“Merlin?” Her soft voice sounded so far away. “Shit, Merlin, no, no, no.” Her gentle hands cradled his face. “Oh God, Merlin, sweetheart. Here, sit down.” Her arms slid under his own, her little body supporting him and guiding him to the edge of an empty gurney. “Look at me,” she urged, “Arthur’s fine.” She pressed a kiss to his forehead, holding him close, uncaring of the blood from Merlin’s gown seeping into her pristine tunic.

“You said-” Merlin mumbled into her uniform, petulant and hurt, hating how he sounded like a terrified child.

“I know, I’m sorry. I thought you knew; he’s at the site, not a part of it. He was driving past and stopped to help. He was the first doctor on site so was working on Tristan from the minute he got there. It’s taken the fire-fighters this long to cut him from the car. It’s not looking good for him, but if he makes it, it’s all down to Arthur.” The vibration of her chest as she held Merlin close was soothing, her steady heartbeat lulling his own, his chest releasing, the lungsful of oxygen causing his head to spin.

She drew his head back, with him sat they were of a height. “You better?”

Arthur’s beloved voice was strained as he came through the emergency doors, riding the trolley, straddling the patient, blood covering his hands where he was leaning his body weight low on the patient’s abdomen.

“We need help here.”

Merlin rocketed up off the bed, looking for all the world like a dog obeying his master’s voice, reaching for a fresh gown and gloves from the packs on the wall, donning both in seconds, nurses hurrying to the gurney, latching on like remora fish.

“What have we got?” The patient, Trist, looked like he’d been run over by a car, which given the circumstances could very much have been the reality. His skin was whiter than paper, lips blue-tinged. Merlin reached over to check his eyes, finding they’d rolled back too far, one so blood shot that the white of the other was a shock, startling in its intensity.

“Trist Runner, 42, hypotensive, tachycardic, hypoxic even after intubation.” Arthur didn’t look up at Merlin as he reeled off the most serious problems. “Severe open wound to mid and lower abdomen. Multiple traumas. The impact was his side, door buckled and snapped. It’s severed the external iliac artery, crushed his pelvis and he’s losing blood fast; the door frame acted as a tourniquet so when they cut him out...”  
Turning to a nearby nurse, Merlin called for O negative blood as the team swept into an exam room. After his terror off the possibility of losing Arthur, Merlin sank into the familiar, into what he knew, into things he could, and would, fix. He tugged open drawers, grabbed a fresh hypo, selected various vials from the coloured trays above, and drew blood from Trist’s arm, ID-ing the patient on the label and hurriedly handing off to a waiting nurse waiting to take it to be cross-matched.

“Merlin,” Arthur was preparing to clamber down from the stretcher. “I need you to press here.” As soon as Merlin’s hands pressed onto the gauze, Arthur swung his leg over Tristan’s and hopped down.

“I need new pads,” he hadn’t finished the sentence before a handful of gauze was thrust at him. He stepped close to Merlin. “Lift,” he commanded.  
“Shit,” Merlin breathed. Blood continued to pump from the jagged wound, bone showing through, chips from the iliac crest littered like shrapnel. Grabbing the fresh pads, Merlin replaced his hands, leaning his full weight down, grateful that Tristan was unconscious for this.

Freya slipped into the room. “Isolde is ask-”

“Tell her we’re doing all we can.” Arthur grit out.

“God, Arthur. She lost her baby, we can’t let her lose her husband too.” Merlin looked up into Arthur’s eyes, seeing his friend clench his jaw, the familiar stubbornness lighting his eyes that meant he wasn't backing down without a fight.

“Then we’ll do everything we can.”

Freya was almost bowled over by the team of surgeons that entered the room as she was leaving.  
**** ****  
Merlin staggered out of the exam room, watching the swarm of surgeons and nurses rushing towards the lifts to the theatres, the bed containing Trist almost invisible. He wanted to crawl out of his own skin; hours ago he’d been moping over not wanting to go on a date with someone he didn’t really like and now he was here, telling people they’d lost children or spouses, parent or friends.

The A&E was far less crowded, the amount of time they’d spent stabilizing Tristan for his surgery having blurred by; accident victims triaged, some admitted, some in theatre. The majority of the plastic chairs housed terrified relatives and friends waiting for word on their loved one.

A look at the clock had his exhaustion swamp him; it was early mornng so it was no wonder he felt like a zombie.

He needed air, needed to get out. He ripped off and balled up his blood smeared plastic gown, snapping off gloves, shoving them deep into a medical waste bin. All his dreams, his fantasies about Arthur were just that. This, this noise and confusion and hurt and fear and death…this was reality.

Desperate to escape, even for a minute, Merlin made for the door. The air that hit him was starkly cold as it sank into his lungs, tinged with the comforting scent of bonfires and the too-sweet decay of leaves and it was the greatest thing he’d ever smelt. Sinking onto the bench a few yards from the Emergency Entrance, he dropped his head into his hands as he took deep breaths, willing his hands to stop trembling. Arthur was alright, Arthur was alive. It was all okay. He vaguely heard the swoosh of the automatic doors, a cacophony of grieving and alarmed voices floating out into the uncaring morning before the doors slid closed again.  
“I’ve been told to go home. You too. Nothing more we can do.”

Arthur strode up to the bench, his scuffed trainers and the ragged hem of his jogging bottoms stepping into Merlin’s eye-line.

Merlin hummed, focusing on the floor.

“When I arrived you looked like a startled stoat.”

“Yeah?” Merlin fought to hide his relief at being able to snark back. He felt something soft drop onto his head. Sitting back, the jumper he’d grabbed on his way out the flat slithered onto his lap. Arthur must have fetched it from the locker room. He pulled it on, Arthur’s chortle of amusement as it got stuck going on over his head muffled by warm wool.

The smirk on Arthur’s face when his head popped through the hole with static crackling through his hair had his heart skipping a beat. He’d thought he’d lost that beloved smile. “Well, at least I don't look like a bone idle...toad.”

Arthur barked a laugh, “You're saying I look like a toad?”

Trying to fall into the ease and familiarity of their banter and friendship but knowing he was slightly missing the mark, Merlin joked back, his voice strained, “Yeah. And maybe one day you'll magically transform into a handsome prince. But given magic doesn’t exist, that'll probably never happen. Come on, let's go.”

“Merlin. One day you will actually learn this but I'm the one who gives the orders, remember?”

“Oh, er, yeah.” Merlin pushed himself upright; now he was in a position to notice, the early November morning was cutting right through the thin cotton of his scrubs. “You ready? Let's go.”

They turned in sync, heading towards the double doors, Arthur nudging his shoulder to make him stumble before coming to a stop just in front of the doors.  
Merlin chuffed out a sigh and nodded, still seeming to be staring at Arthur’s face.

“Merlin.” Arthur’s voice sounded strained, curiously unsure and it had Merlin turning towards him.

Arthur reached for Merlin, fisting his jumper and stepping closer, close enough to count Merlin’s eyelashes and feel the soft, warm wash of his breath across Arthur’s face. He could do this. He could. He looked at Merlin, that dear face and scruffy hair, pale skin and that god-awful jumper that Gwen had knitted Arthur years ago, and Merlin had appropriated, thumbs already gouging holes in the sleeves.

He was sweating, he was sure and he was beginning to suspect his airway was closing up; it hadn’t been this hard to breath a minute ago, had it?  
“I’m not...I don’t know how…um…”

“You alright?” Merlin began to scour Arthur’s body for an injury, beginning to panic.

“Christmas party,” exclaimed Arthur.

Merlin frowned, thrown by the apparent non-sequitor. “That’s, what, five weeks away? What about it?”

Screwing up his courage, and taking a deep breath Arthur slid his hands down Merlin’s arms to link their fingers, smiling when Merlin didn’t pull away, curling his fingers tighter around Arthur, not breaking his gaze, a hesitant smile and blush blooming on his cheeks.

“Go with me?”

“As your…?” Merlin asked in a whisper, unable to tear his eyes from Arthur, searching desperately for any sign that this was some cruel hoax.

“Date,” Arthur nodded decisively, “as my date.” Merlin’s eyes narrowed and his hands clenched Arthur’s but he didn’t pull away. Arthur held his breath as he waited, terrified to blink.

“If you’re kidding right now, I’m going to kill you. I know how. I’ve got access to all sorts of-”

“Not kidding.”

Merlin took in the faint tremor in Arthur’s body, his earnest expression, the way his thumbs were running back and forth over Merlin’s knuckles.

“You’re not, are you?” Merlin licked his lips.

“So…do I have to wait until the party or…?” Merlin teased and the smile that spread across Arthur’s face was blinding.

“You’re smiling,” whispered Merlin.

“Really?”

“Yeah. I like it.”

“So, was our first date exciting enough for you?” Arthur asked, holding out his hand, palm up.

“Date?” Merlin asked, slipping his hand into Arthur’s squeezing tight.

“Most dates end up like this. He gestured with his free hand. “Two people, interested in each other. Not wanting it to end, standing close.”

“Oh really?” Merlin stepped closer still. “Isn’t a kiss also quite…customary too.” He couldn’t stop his eyes from sliding down to focus on Arthur’s lips; chapped in the cold air, plump and pink and so very inviting, begging to be worshiped by his own. In an unhurried caress, Merlin stroked his fingers up Arthur’s arm, trailing cool fingers over the warm skin of his neck, reaching to clasp the back of Arthur’s head.

He closed the distance between Arthur’ mouth and his own. The first press of their lips was quick, chaste, their lips warm and dry. And already oh-so familiar. Coming together again, Merlin suckled Arthur’s full lower lip between his own, tugging lightly, tongue tasting along the seam of Arthur’s mouth, drawing back to nuzzle at him, smiling against Arthur’s mouth when he parted his lips to let Merlin in.

Beyond warm lips was the heat of Arthur’s mouth, smooth teeth and slick, exploring tongue, twisting and exploring over Merlin’s own, chasing it back into Merlin’s mouth.

Merlin’s hands clutched at Arthur’s ribs, fingers digging in as he tugged Arthur closer before his palms slid to Arthur’s waist and around that broad back and up to grasp at his shoulders, locking them tight together.

God. Arthur was in heaven. He’d imagined this moment so many times, over and over until Arthur had become half convinced it was a memory, not a fantasy. He’d imagined different versions of Merlin to be shy, passionate, filthy, bashful, chaste presses of lips and slick tongues but never this. The freezing air of the very early morning on his skin was no competition for the heat of Merlin’s skin beneath his hand with the brush of razored hair at his nape, the feel of Merlin’s ass beneath those thin scrubs or the chill of Merlin’s nose pressed into his cheek as they kissed. Never had he correctly imagined that longed for body pressed so hard into his, the long fingers in his hair and on his neck, cool against his overheated skin.

The taste of Merlin’s mouth, mint and too sweet coffee, its heat, his tongue never still, always seeking his, teasing, tickling, learning his crooked teeth and sensitive palette.

Merlin broke their kiss, turning his head to the side to desperately haul in breath, the air was shockingly cold after the heat of the Arthur’s mouth. Merlin hands wouldn’t allow Arthur to retreat, even if he’d wanted to and guided that sinful mouth to his neck, Arthur seeming happy to oblige as he sank his hand into Merlin’s hair, tugging his head back.

Arthur ran his tongue along the muscles that corded Merlin’s neck, delighting in the prickle of stubble and taste of fresh sweat, latching just below Merlin’s ear, tongue laving against the trapped skin as he sucked a possessive mark into the pale skin, pressing Merlin closer at the feel of his squirming and low moan of pleasure. Arthur was in no hurry to let go, losing himself to sensation, lazily rolling his hips into Merlin’s, pressing and retreating, pressing and retreating.  
“Arth-” Merlin moaned as Arthur drew back as far as he was able, biting at the released skin, taking in the already vivid bruise before Merlin’s hands shifted into his hair and feverishly drew their mouths back together.

“Uh, lads?” A stranger’s voice cut through the need. “Might wanna take it home, yeah?”

The couple pulled apart and turned towards the man, who flashed them a smile and threw them a thumbs up. They looked back to each other and burst into laughter, arms still tight, still pressed close.

“Morgana drove Excalibur back here.” Arthur pointed at the silver Mercedes that was shambolically parked across the ‘NO PARKING’ bay, half up on the pavement, a ‘Doctor On Call’ card propped up on the dashboard.

“Come home with me,” Arthur’s voice was little more than a rumble, Merlin feeling the vibrations in his chest.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See Notes on Chapter 1.

_‘It should be awkward’._ That’s what Merlin kept thinking as they swept along near-deserted streets, ever closer to Arthur’s flat. And his bed. But it wasn’t. He felt so comfortable sat by Arthur’s side, where he should always have been, holding Arthur’s left hand between gear changes. He glanced over at Arthur, at his profile lit up by the glow of the ridiculous dials on the dashboard. Without taking his eyes off the road, Arthur asked, “What?”

“Nothing. Nothing.” Merlin laughed, unabashed in his staring, but as their journey continued, he caught Arthur looking over more and more frequently. Merlin felt his skin start to flush, heat building beneath his clothes, the trickle of a bead of sweat trailing down his spine causing him to squirm, Arthur’s proximity causing his breath to speed up.

“Hey,” he said softly, turning his body to the side to look at Arthur more clearly.

“Hey,” Arthur responded, sure he looked and sounded as idiotic as he accused Merlin of being. Taking advantage of the traffic lights ahead turning red, he leaned in close, fitting his mouth over Merlin’s, smiling into the feel of Merlin, lost in the desire and how overwhelmingly right it felt. Until the driver behind leant on the horn.  
**** **** ****  
Merlin in his arms was incredible, all long limbs and wandering hands, restless as he explored Arthur’s body. Shifting slightly, tilting his head for a better angle, Arthur took Merlin’s mouth again, hand coming up to cup the back of his head, holding him where he wanted him, though he was making no move to get away. Merlin was matching him kiss for kiss, nibbling at his jaw, sucking bruises to his neck.

He wanted and needed more.

Crushing Merlin to him, he walked him backwards, stumbling really, to the wall, pressing Merlin back into it, hips grinding against him, cock hardening as he felt Merlin’s own arousal pressing into his hip.

“Fucking hell.”

Neither knew which had spoken, but neither cared; the sentiment held for both, Arthur’s moan vibrating through Merlin’s chest, Merlin’s trembling matched by Arthur’s shiver.

God, Merlin felt like his skin was a size too small, like if he stopped clutching at Arthur he’d float away. Merlin swallowed Arthur’s moan as he wriggled his ass against Arthur’s possessive hold.

“Mer-” Merlin’s mouth swallowed his name, tongue fucking into Arthur’s mouth as he pushed them away from the wall, whining as Arthur sucked hard on his tongue.

“Bed,” he ordered roughly, aiming for the stairs, “now.”

He helped Arthur peel away his shirt, discarding it instantly in favour of spreading his hands over the tanned skin on offer, latching his mouth on the collarbone he’d so longed to taste, hands clinging to firm biceps, roaming restlessly as he sought out the scent of Arthur beneath the sharp smell of disinfectant and the softer fragrance of laundry powder. He clutched Arthur closer to feel the crush of chest hair tickle against his chest, even through his own shirt.

As Merlin dipped his hand beneath the waistband of Arthur’s scrub bottoms he stared into Arthur’s eyes, he grinned impishly. “This does not mean that I like you.” He slipped his hand down to cup the erection hidden beneath soft boxers

Any reply that Arthur could have offered was lost on a sigh as his head dropped back, moaning as Merlin pressed the heel of his hand into the head of Arthur’s cock, fingertips massaging balls.

Then the hand was gone, Arthur whining at the loss, stumbling when Merlin pushed him backwards, sitting down hard as he tripped on the first step, landing on the stairs, scowling at a laughing Merlin.

“Up.”

“No.”

“I’m not fucking you on the stairs.” So saying Merlin tried to step over and past Arthur’s prostrate figure, expecting the tight grip on his ankle, which he easily kicked off, stripping off his jumper and scrub top, dropping both onto Arthur’s head, pale skin shining in the weak, early morning light streaming through the massive windows as he skipped up the stairs.

Arthur flipped onto his stomach to push himself up, chasing a laughing Merlin up the stairs, thundering towards his bedroom, tackling Merlin just as he reached the door.

 _“Merlin,”_ washed over his face before Arthur’s mouth was on his, hips thrusting into Merlin’s hold. Merlin squirmed to get a better grip, ignoring Arthur’s protest as he released him, reaching to grasp the waistband and pull the trousers down, past his ass, dropping onto his heels to push them down long legs, Arthur stepping out of them by force of habit, shuddering as Merlin ran his hands back up his legs, mouth following, random kisses pressed into warm skin, Merlin smiling against the blond hairs.

Arthur shifted his stance, giving Merlin more room to work, moaning softly as that teasing mouth met the seam of cloth and skin, the kisses pressing harder as Merlin zeroed in, tongue snaking out to rasp cotton against the sensitive head of Arthur’s cock. Moaning at the taste, Merlin moved a hand to his own shaft, needing the friction, pressing into the constricting cotton.

Closing his mouth over the wet spot, Merlin dropped his other hand from Arthur’s hip to his drawstring, fumbling the knot free and fumbling to tug scrubs and boxers down past his cock and balls and over the curve of his ass. He took himself in hand, and looked up at Arthur, taking in the defined torso, tight nipples, bitten mouth and dark eyes.

“Oh…that how you like it? Slow?”

Merlin drew back, sitting on his heels to give Arthur a show. “And tight.”

“Do you have any idea how fucking sexy your mouth is when wrapped around my cock?” Arthur asked, knees trembling.

Merlin raised an eyebrow, easily rocking up to his feet, stepping out of his own bottoms and into Arthur’s arms, spinning them away from the wall and through the open door, stumbling to the bed.

Their urgent thrusting sent shivers of heat up Merlin’s spine as he scratched his nails down Arthur’s back, moaning into the kiss as Arthur bit at his lips in retaliation. Grasping the lush cheeks tight to pull Arthur’s hips ever closer, Merlin leant backwards to take them both to the mattress, their landing awkward. Merlin bounced slightly before Arthur’s weight landed atop him and he struggled to stretch beneath Arthur’s weight as they writhed to get fully onto the bed without separating.

With a flurry of movement, Arthur had grappled Merlin close and rolled them, thighs straddling Merlin’s hips, hands pressing Merlin’s shoulders into the bed, ass pressing into Merlin’s cock.

He towered over Merlin, fingers tracing over the body beneath him, across the wings of prominent collarbones, down to linger on rosy nipples tight and hard, pale skin blotching pink across the lean chest as Merlin’s ribs pumped hard as he panted for breath.

With a wicked smirk, Merlin tired of the scrutiny and reached for Arthur’s cock, wrapping his hand around the base.

Dropping his body down, Arthur suckled one of Merlin’s nipples into his mouth, teasing with flickers of his tongue and nips of his teeth.

“Don’t wanna finish too soon,” Arthur explained between sucking kisses to Merlin’s neck, his panted breath ruffling the hairs behind Merlin’s ear.

Merlin’s hands feathered down Arthur’s strong back, only to grab roughly at Arthur’s ass, fingers digging into the swell of muscle as he tried to press his lover ever closer as he thrust up, separating the cheeks to dip his fingertips into the crease. Twisting his head, he pressed a startlingly chaste kiss to Arthur’s hairline, drawing a deep lungful of Arthur’s scent; expensive cologne, a hint of hair product he’d deny ever using and the sweet, fresh sweat earned from their exertions.

“Who said anything about coming and ‘finishing’ being the same thing?” he asked, dipping fingertips into Arthur’s crease and nuzzling into Arthur’s hair.

Arthur slithered down the bed, spread Merlin’s legs wide, lying between them as painted patterns onto the sensitive skin of his inner thighs to watch his lover tremble and buck into frictionless air, caught between squirming away and pressing into teasing hands.

“Bastard.”

He was rewarded with the inferno of Arthur’s mouth surrounding him, that usually sharp tongue slick and soft as it crisscrossed up his length, tight suction causing his eyes to roll back in his head.

Arthur cupped those thrusting hips in his hands, pressing them down into the bed; Merlin would get what pleasure Arthur decided to give, when he gave it and not before. He reached out for Merlin’s hands, untangling them from where they were fisting the blankets, guiding them to his head, encouraging Merlin to sink those gorgeous fingers into his hair and hold on. Sliding up and off, Arthur looked up at him and winked.

“Just don’t pull my hair.”

Arthur pulled off and crawled up that slim body, pressing his weight onto Merlin, grinding their cocks together as he took that lush mouth, falling into the intoxicating taste, the scent of Merlin surrounding him, luxuriating in all the smooth skin pressed against his own as they writhed. Merlin’s hand wriggled between them, smoothing over the head of his cock and lower, sliding over his balls before retreating, smoothing over that gorgeous ass, feeling the power of Arthur’s thrusts before he slid his fingers into Arthur’s crack, teasing dry fingertips against his hole, dipping lower still to stroke one longer finger along the skin behind his balls, pressing in in tight circles.

Arthur’s orgasm took him by surprise, clenching his balls hard as his cock kicked between their bellies, come smearing between them. Merlin didn’t let up though he lessened the pressure, running one gentle hand down the back of Arthur’s thighs, gripping just beneath his ass to keep him close as he shuddered and spilt. Arthur panted for breath as he nosed blindly along Merlin’s jaw to press his mouth against Merlin’s barely a kiss, needing the connection.

Arthur was uncomplaining when Merlin pushed him back onto his back, reaching for him when he rolled atop, thighs split wide.

Merlin entwined their fingers, wrapping both their hands around his own shaft, coaxing Arthur into the rhythm he preferred, teaching him where to twist and rub and squeeze, shuddering when Arthur shook Merlin’s hand off to jerk Merlin alone, strong, uncompromising. Merlin trembled and closed his eyes at the pleasure, mesmerising Arthur as he bit into his lower lip.

“Like this?” Arthur smirked as he increased the pace drinking in Merlin’s whimpers and cries, relentless as Merlin’s head fell back, the long line of his neck displaying Arthur’s bruises, the graceful arc of his body in the light the most beautiful thing Arthur had ever seen, skin pinked and sweat slick, hands clenching on Arthur’s thighs as he rested back.

“Come on Merlin, come on. I want to see. Come on,” he ordered, slicking his thumb over the head and pressing into the slit, rubbing at the sweet spot beneath the head.

“Fuck,” Merlin sobbed, “fuck, fuck, fuck,” his head slumping forward as he stiffened, hips thrusting forward before shuddering to a stop, coming over Arthur’s hand and their stomachs, whimpering as Arthur jerked him through the aftershocks, hissing when the hand finally released him, slumping forward into Arthur’s hold, uncaring of the mess between them, smiling at the rough press of a kiss into his hair, cradling his trembling body.

“You gorgeous you know that right?”

“And you’re a snuggler,” Merlin sniggered, though he made no move to separate even a millimetre.

They lay together, petting the skin denied to them due to stupidity, exploring smooth skin and crisp hair, rosy nipples and flushed cheeks, the taste of elbow and knee, shoulder and neck.

“Ugh, itchy.” Merlin laughed at Arthur’s complaint and his expression as he scratched at his stomach, looking disgusted.

“Poor dear.”

“Run a bath?”

“You’ll be lucky. What did your last servant die of?”

“Well he’s about to be bludgeoned to death with a pillow.”

“That sounds as menacing as an inflatable hammer.”

“Get a towel?” Arthur’s pout was distressingly adorable and faintly sexy, enough to inspire Merlin to roll back onto him, tracing the shape and strength of his love’s muscles, stroking down his sides, tracing his tongue over Arthur’s lower lip, learning the angles of tooth and palette.  
Just as Arthur began to meet his thrusts, hands burying in Merlin’s hair to keep his mouth close, Merlin rolled off him, evading the grabbing hands and ignoring the strained expletives.

“As my Lord decrees.” Even with his back turned Merlin knew Arthur was giving him the finger. And watching him leave, so he gave a cheeky wiggle of his hips, smiling as he heard Arthur’s chuckle.

After he cleaned himself up enough to be comfortable, he rinsed the towel and went back to give the cloth to Arthur, tossing it back into the en-suite when he was done, collapsing back into strong arms that cuddled him close as they lay spooned together, Arthur arm wrapped over Merlin, hand pressed to his chest.

Arthur reached behind himself for the duvet and, without letting Merlin go, he tugged it over them both, tucking it in around Merlin; he seemed to run about five degrees colder than everyone else and Arthur was going to keep him warm.

And safe.

And loved.  
**** ****  
“Look Merlin, last night is going to be all over the hospital by now-”

“Egotist,” Merlin snorted, walloping Arthur with a pillow, before tucking it back under his head. It was sinfully comfortable after all.

“Two people in fuchsia scrubs, two gorgeous men,” Merlin found himself blushing despite himself, “having a kiss of epic proportions”, the blush flamed, “and right outside the A&E entrance. There’s no way that man was the only one who saw.

“Oh God.” Merlin moaned and tried to tug the duvet over his head. “Do you think-”

“Morgana knows? Yes.”

“And-”

“Gwaine? Yes.”

Arthur got up via the expedient method of rolling out of the bed and onto the floor and clambered to his feet, giving a deep bow to Merlin’s amused applause and left the bedroom, Merlin watching appreciatively when he came back still gloriously and unselfconsciously nude with a pile of clothes in his arms, tossing Merlin’s scrub bottoms at him. Pulling them off his head and digging his mobile from the folds of fabric, Merlin concentrated on the screen, unconsciously nuzzling Arthur’s shoulder as his lover leapt onto the bed, lolling against Merlin’s side, more interested in being able to lick back into Merlin’s mouth than communication with the outside world even as Merlin tried to open his messages folder.

“Oh,” the bluish tinge of the screen lit Merlin’s face as he stared transfixed.

“What?”

“Ummm.”

“Show me.”

Wrestling the phone from Merlin, Arthur took in the message; a series of photographs, one where they were standing close as they stared into each other’s eyes, next mid-kiss and the third…the third was beautiful. Arthur knew it was the moment when he’d asked Merlin to come home with him. Merlin’s smile was breath-taking, his face so blindingly open, delight and joy and love visible in every wrinkle and dimple.

The source of the message was a surprise. Rather than Morgana or even Gwaine, though he had no doubt they, and so very many others had received it and were waiting to throw their in their own two cents, but rather Freya. She would have been the only member of their group that would have been witness; Gwaine, Gwen and Lance wouldn’t have been on shift, Morgana would have been swamped in the HDU and Percy too busy directing pissed off patients and worried families. Merlin suspected this was only the first in a thousand messages of their group informing him of the collective sigh of relief that the two idiots had finally gotten a clue and gotten their acts together.

From the message icon in the corner of the screen that was flashing furiously to indicate there was no longer any room left in his inbox, it was clear everyone and their Aunt Fanny had sent them a message. Knowing Gwaine, he’d probably blown the pictures up, printed them out and plastered the hospital with them, along with their mobile numbers so people could congratulate them. But then Arthur began to suck a new bruise onto his collarbone and he didn’t care, shoving phone and scrubs off the side of the bed to turn properly towards Arthur, filling his palms with the warm swell of his lover’s biceps as Arthur’s mouth fused to his own, tongue teasing his.

“You got supplies?” asked Merlin moving his mouth to Arthur’s ear, suckling at his ear lobe in deep, rhythmic pulses.

Arthur smiled and ran his hand through Merlin’s hair, already addicted to the feel of the soft strands beneath his palm, stroking down the side of his face to feel those sharp cheekbones and along the tendon in his neck to play with idly with the hair at Merlin’s nape.

“Yes,” Arthur breathed, pressing Merlin back onto the bed, rolling atop him to bring their hips and cocks together, rubbing full length along Merlin.  
“Hmmm,” Merlin pushed his head back into the pillow as Arthur pushed himself up to dig through the bedside table, dropping his finds onto the pillow beside Merlin’s head, the tube rolling against Merlin’s cheek, the cold making him start.

“Sorry.” Arthur cupped Merlin’s balls in penance, smoothing the delicate skin, rolling the globes in their sac before skirting around the hopeful cock that twitched for his attention, scratching through the coarse hair above , tracing the trail to Merlin’s navel, circling the bellybutton to watch stomach muscles clench and hear Merlin’s breathy laugh and weak attempts to push him away.

“Shit! Art-stop-Arthur!”

Eyes narrowing, Merlin retaliated in kind, encircling Arthur’s cock, sliding up and down. Up and down. Up and down. Teasingly light but more than enough to get Arthur’s attention, fingers clawing into Merlin’s sides.

“You enjoying yourself?” Merlin asked sweetly, grinning at Arthur’s nod and moan, laughing at the look of loss when he let go, Arthur arching to get the pleasure back, rolling onto his back and pulling Merlin atop him, sighing at the weight that settled on his kips, pressing his cock against Merlin’s ass, as his hands settled on it, fingers teasing into the crack.

“You okay wi-”

“Riding you?” Merlin asked, delighted when Arthur thrust against him again, pulling him down to grind up into him, pleasure tightening his balls, lust stabbing into his gut to coil around his hips, thrusting harder up into Merlin’s welcome weight.

Gathering both cocks in his hand, Merlin jacked them together, Arthur’s hands reaching up to his nipples, learning what Merlin liked as he circled the areola, pinching the peak and scratching his nails around it, mouth watering as he wanted to get his lips around it, Merlin’s hand on his chest holding him down as his other palmed their cock heads, smearing the slick along the shafts, riding the undulations of Arthur’s hips.

God it was tight. Merlin was stroking him like he loved, fast and tight, setting a blistering tempo that had Arthur gasping, too tight, too fast as he stared into Arthur’s eyes, pupils dilated until Merlin’s blue eyes looked almost black, hooded as his lids slid half shut.

“You wanna get fucked, you’ve got to stop,” Arthur gasped, dropping his hands to prise Merlin’s away from him, mouth dry at the thought of getting into Merlin. He was going to be so tight, wasn’t he?

"Where did the lube go?"

"Oh, uh,” Merlin grappled around on the mattress by Arthur’s head, sliding under the pillow in search. When he found it, he slapped it into Arthur’s palm.

“Do the honours?”

Arthur swallowed as his fingers closed around the tube, flicking the lid open, spilling some across his chest to run his fingers through, slicking them up. “You like the stretch?” he asked, reaching to lift Merlin’s cock and balls up and to the side, sliding his slick hand under Merlin, trailing across perineum, to his hole, one fingertip feathering over the puckered skin. “Hmmm?” As he gently pressed the first joint into Merlin, he got frustrated by the angle being wrong. “Shift up,” he patted his belly in invitation, keeping his other hand in place to avoid slipping out.

Arthur’s skin was so warm as Merlin moved against him.

“Christ, Merlin.” Arthur’s voice was little more than a rasp as he watched Merlin’s hand fist his cock, slow and teasing, not looking to get off just indulging. Smiling he shifted his weight back onto his knees, forcing himself back onto Arthur’s fingers, those thick talented fingers as Arthur worked Merlin’s hole, twisting as he pumped into him, causing Merlin to fumble with the condom, dropping the packet onto Arthur’s chest as fingers brushed Merlin’s prostate.

“Bastard.”

Only when Arthur slid his fingers free could Merlin concentrate enough to tear the foil open and reach behind himself to roll the sheath onto Arthur’s cock, holding his hand out for a squirt of lube, liberally smearing it with teasing touches to make Arthur moan.

Shuffling backwards, he felt Arthur’s hands drop away, returning to his hips, steadying him as he wriggled into position, standing Arthur’s cock upright, holding the base as he sank slowly backwards, unaware of Arthur’s regard as his lover avidly took in the lax mouth and blissful expression, needing to focus on Merlin’s pleasure to avoid his own swamping him; he’d been right, Merlin was tight and the walls of his ass clung to Arthur’s cock as Merlin sank around him and he was unaware of the moan ripped from his chest.

Settling onto Arthur’s hips, cock resting on that toned stomach, Merlin rested his own hands on top of Arthur’s, squeezing down on his hands as he rocked his hips, slowly lifting up by an inch, falling back down, before resting his hands over Arthur’s chest, fingertips rubbing restlessly over his nipples.

Arthur was almost beyond himself with want, desperate to thrust up into Merlin, aching as he held back; if Merlin wanted slow, he’d get slow. “God you feel good,” he bit out, fingers clenching, loving how Merlin’s hipbones filled his palms perfectly.

“Gimme your hands,” Merlin ordered, Arthur letting go instantly to tangle their fingers together, catching on quick as Merlin braced his weight, the muscles in his arms bulging. Arthur let out a grunt as he thrust up hard, raising his hips to bury himself, grinding his hips in, in, in, before retreating, over and over and over.  
Arthur kicked his hips up, rolling them both over, leaning over Merlin is he slid back in, holding Merlin’s legs close to his ribcage, encouraging him to hold hard, feeling those long legs wrap around his back, ankles hooking above his ass, heels digging into the swell of muscle, Merlin urging his rhythm to increase, pressing him closer, faster, more.

When Merlin came it was almost silent, an exhale that ended with a gentle grunt, his body seizing, thighs gripping Arthur to him, before he relaxed, petting Arthur’s back, stroking down his spine and back into his hair as he encouraged Arthur to follow him.

“Come on,” he pressed a kiss to Arthur’s temple as he ducked his head into Merlin’s neck, sucking hard on the sweaty skin, tongue and teeth worrying a bright bruise.

“Next time I’ll walk on my knees and worship at your feet, suck you into my throat. I’ll take you apart with one blow.”

Arthur’s strangled grunt as he came was muffled, his teeth clamping down onto Merlin’s shoulder as his hips froze, ass clenching as he emptied, strangled moan forcing past his teeth as Merlin pet his hair and rubbed over his shoulders, holding him close.

“Are you trying to kill me?” Arthur slipped out and rolled to the side, reaching for a tissue and rolling the condom into it before chucking it behind him and rolling back to insinuate one heavy thigh between Merlin’s, keeping close as he trailed one finger through the mess they’d made before slicking it against his lips and leaning down to Merlin.

“C’mere,” Merlin reached for him, his kisses lush.

“Hey,” Merlin whispered as he pulled away, Arthur staring into his eyes for what felt like an age before leaning down once to press a sweet, almost chaste kiss to Merlin’s lips, cuddling closer.

In each and every fantasy he’d had about finally being in Arthur’s bed, he’d suspected that he’d be an intense and generous lover but this…Arthur was beyond his wildest dreams.

Strong hands rolled him to his back before disappearing, a ‘shhh’ greeting his moue of complaint as a cloth was rubbed over him and he was covered with a sinfully soft blanket.

“Hey.”

Arthur brushed back the sweat soaked off from his forehead, pressing a reverent kiss to the centre.  
*** *** ***  
In retrospect, they should have seen it coming; Gwaine’s oh so casual invite to the pub, the blackboard with ‘Private Party Upstairs- No Entry on the stairs, the smirking glances of the downstairs bar staff, it all led to this.

“Congratulations!” If Merlin hadn’t been deafened by most of their friends screaming at the top of their lungs, Gwaine and Elena blowing party horns and whirling noise-makers would have done the trick. It was only Arthur’s quick reflexes that stopped him from stumbling backwards down the steps, falling instead against Arthur’s chest, held close while their friends collectively ‘ooh-ed’ and ‘aww-ed’ over them.

It wasn’t really so bad, Merlin considered, given that Lance and then Elena pressed pints into their hands and there were some plates of chips and bowls of Smarties and Haribo, on the tables. Gwaine must have raided the Spar just down the end of the street which was oddly sweet of him. Even if he had indeed blown the photos up and liberally scattered print outs of them all over the bar.

“We really are quite photogenic,” Arthur whispered, arm low around Merlin’s hip as he tracked Merlin’s eye line to see what had him so fascinated. Merlin didn’t know what it was about the photographs; they were slightly blurry and dark, shot through a pane of glass but still…

“Is that your way of asking to film a sex tape?” Merlin all but purred, delighted at how Arthur’s eyes dilated, lips falling open, the pink of his tongue to inviting to ignore, so he didn’t.

“Thank, fucking, Christ.” Gwaine hollered across the room, calling attention to their kiss, it breaking to sounds of wolf-whistles.

“I was starting to get blue balls just watching you two dance around,” Gwaine complained, to the horror of Gwen and Freya next to him.

“If there is anything, Gwaine, that I don’t want or need to hear about, it’s your balls,” spoke up Morgana, throwing a chip at him, which he tried to catch in his mouth, smirking happily when it hit him square on the cheek, leaving behind a trail of ketchup.

“Yeah, you do,” he countered, smearing off the condiment and licking his hand. Freya screwed up her face and reached into her back, pulling out a small packet of wet-wipes, yanking one out and stuffing it into Gwaine’s hand.

Absently he scrubbed at his face and hands, then made a show of rubbing behind his ears.

“All clean, see?”

“Everywhere but between your ears.”

Merlin huffed a laugh. “You can’t talk, Freya. You took the pictures!”

She blinked in shock, but quickly recovered. “As proof!”

“Proof…” Arthur asked, slipping his arm around Merlin’s shoulders when he looked to be moving away. “…you lot had a bet on didn’t you?”  
“Several,” Gwaine didn’t bother to dissemble.

“So who won?” Merlin asked. Morgana smiled sunnily in response.

“Is this why you were on at me to finally get my finger out an-”

“Aww did you have an embarrassing heart to heart about me?” Merlin teased, jumping when Arthur retaliated by jabbing fingers into his ribs.

“It was not a heart-”

“It so was,” Gwen countered, coming over to snaffle a handful of Sourtastics, “Morgana rang me after.”

“Morgana!”

“Hmmm?” She didn’t appear even slightly repentant. “And it wasn’t just about the money. Watching you two fail to figure out anything was draining. Something had to be done. Two months. _Two months_ you two have done the ‘we’re just friends’ routine and-”

“So how much did you win?” Merlin asked, keen to avoid the embarrassing topic of mooning over Arthur.

“Apart from the warm knowledge of being right? Few hundred quid.”

 _“A few hundred pounds?”_ Arthur spluttered, “How much were you lot putting in?”

Lance stepped out from behind the bar with another pint he handed to Arthur. Clearly being the fiancée of the owner’s daughter had its perks. “Oh it wasn’t just us,” he shared with a smile. “Most of our own departments had books going. It got pretty complicated towards the end.”

“Complicated?” asked Merlin, stealing Arthur’s drink.

“The date, who’d ask out who, where, first kiss-”

“First fuck,” called Gwaine, laughing at Merlin’s blush.

“I knew it, I called it. Pony up.” Gwaine made a ‘gimme’ gesture with his hand, gleeful as the others reached for wallets and purses.

“I can’t believe-“ Merlin rolled his eyes. “Of course I’d believe Gwaine would bet on our sex life.”

*** *** ***  
The chill of the night was a shock as the group made their way out of the pub, the air crisp in the way only a winter night could achieve and there was a general flurry of activity to tighten scarves and button up coats, laments over lost gloves.

Merlin looped the scarf around Arthur’s neck, tucking the ends into Arthur coat, smoothing it all down before pressing a kiss to Arthur’s nose.

“Still not learnt to dress yourself then, Arthur?”

“Merlin likes to dress me,” Arthur slung his arm around Merlin’s shoulders and tugged him close, pressing a kiss to Merlin’s temple, nosing at his hair for a moment.

“Preferably, I like to _un_ dress you but what’s a technicality or two?”

“You’re just jealous, Morgana,”

Impatient huffs behind them had Gwen ushering the group out of the way of the exit and into an alcove to the side.

“You know, the phrase is ‘excuse me’,” Morgana called at the pair glaring daggers at them all.

“What?” Both frowning they stopped and turned back.

“Rather than standing there and huffing at us and tapping your foot, you say ‘excuse me’. You’d be amazed at how well it works.”

“Oh fuck off,” the duo chorused together before heading off in the opposite direction.

“Nice,” Morgana observed, giving them the finger as they walked away.  
*** *** ***  
Despite feeling like he wanted to scream how happy he was from the rooftops, life went on, shift after shift, sprained ankles after broken arms filling their days, but on their off hours…those were spent together

The enormous bear of a man had been brought in forty minutes earlier, slashed with broken glass in a bar fight, which most of the staff on duty suspected he’d started and within five minutes of meeting him were willing to do that, and more, to him. He’d reeked of whiskey and vomit and very stale sweat. His tee-shirt didn’t cover the swell of his beer gut, the stretched cotton no match.

"You're going nowhere but a jail cell. Sit down.” Merlin thought he recognised the police officer that pushed the middle-aged man down onto his chair; he wasn’t one to talk back to.

“You were drunk and disorderly, violent and aggressive towards two young women.”

One of the paramedics who’d brought the charming man in moved to adjust the back of the wheelchair only to be slapped away.

“Get your fucking hands off me!”

“Oi, language,” the Constable warned, pushing him back into his chair.

“Don’t you fucking talk to me like that, I’m sick.”

“Mister Halig, you’re drunk, not sick. If you can’t be polite then shut up.” Both he and the paramedic reached to push him back into his seat.

"I want to go home. Right now,” the man whined, seemingly oblivious of the trouble he was in.

“You're staying until you’re checked out and then you’re coming with me. Only place you’re seeing tonight is here and a cell.”

“Get your fucking hands off me!”

“Behave.”

“Tell him to get his fucking hands off me!” The paramedic lets go and leans back against the wall, offering no help when the patient drops the mouthpiece to the gas and air canister, ineffectual flailing failing to grab the hose and return it to his mouth, the analgesic effect quickly wearing off.

“I apologise,” the man’s tone is just on the cusp of believable but falls short. The paramedic just stares at the opposite wall, waiting patiently for his charge to get assigned a room.

“Do you accept my apology?”

“No.” It’s said with a laugh but it’s no less true.

“Awww don’t sugar coat it, mate,” his partner tries and failed to hide her smirk.

“Fucker.”

“As you say.”

“I’ve checked in,” the officer’s partner slid past the rest of the ambulance sign-in line to greet her partner.

“You know you’re quite pretty for a police officer.” He leered at the blonde woman, slowly roving his eyes from head to toe before zeroing in on her chest.

“You’re quite ugly for a drunk.”

“What did you say to me?” He launched himself out of the chair, stumbling over his own feet.

“Sit down!” All four grabbed him and shoved him back into his seat.

Merlin double checked the time, hoping he’d still get away when his shift ended in twenty minutes, praying under his breath he didn’t get called onto Mr Drunk n’ Disorderly’s treatment.

It wasn’t until his shift ended and handover was completed, that he saw Freya flee from the A&E, her ponytail bouncing as she ran. Concerned he followed her, not to the locker room as he’d expected, but to the empty staff room, finding her huddled on the edge of the sofa, tears silently coursing down her cheeks, face red with one fist pressed into her mouth.

Without a word Merlin locked the door and sat on the sofa arm and took her free hand in his, arm sliding around her shoulders, movements slow to give Freya time to move away. She pressed her weight into his thigh, face turned against his stomach to hide it, tears leaving a damp stain upon his scrub top. Merlin was caught between crying for his friend’s pain, and wanting to kick the shit out of the patient in A&E and figured that he was smart and capable to do both.

When Freya pulled away some time later he let her go, and stood up, busying himself with making her a cup of tea, scrounging up a couple biscuits while she blew her nose and wiped away the smeared remains of what little makeup she wore on duty; getting herself ready to go back out, leaving her the space she wanted to pull herself together.

Over tea Freya explained Halig had taken a shine to her, and loudly, lewdly and in great detail explained what he’d do with her given half the chance. It had involved chains and whips and cages. He’d been warned to shut it a number of times by the Constables that had accompanied him, but he’d carried on, voice dropping quiet and secretive for a few moments and then starting up again. Freya had stood behind him, debriding and cleaning his head wound and suturing it closed as tears filled her eyes. Her hands shook but her sutures remained clean and tight as the patient continued on about the colours of the bruises he’d make bloom upon her skin, the beauty of the red and purple and his sadness as they would fade to yellow. The different marks he could make with flogger and paddle, how sweet her screams would be. Merlin had been too busy dealing with his opponent, the two Constables holding him down as Merlin administered a sedative as his unwilling patient screamed obscenities at anyone who came near.

Percy was not-at-all-casually standing by the door when Freya was ready to leave again, composed once more. He fell into step beside his friends, escorting them both down towards the locker room, Merlin dropping further back as he watched Freya and Percy gravitate closer, hands grazing as they walked along. Merlin smiled as he watched them glancing at each other stealthily from the corner of their eyes. He and Arthur clearly weren’t the only ones that were a little stupid when it got to getting their act together until he caught himself thinking about it and then realised he was turning into Morgana and one of her was more than adequate, thank you so very much.  
*** *** ***  
Settling into his seat, Merlin looked around the lecture hall. It was packed, doctors, nurses, admin staff crammed into the space and he was able to pick out clusters of his friends as they trooped in, settling themselves to lean against walls and pillars, the seats rapidly filling.

“Ah, Merlin,” Gaius sat in the seat Merlin had guarded by shoving his feet across it and glaring at any who dared to take it. “I wonder what we are in for.”

If Merlin stretched in his seat, earning huffs of annoyance from those behind him and a raised eyebrow from Gaius, he could just see the glint of light off Arthur’s golden head. The Director sat at his right and the man to his left must have been Agravaine Dubois, Arthur’s maternal uncle, and Catrina’s business partner. He’d expected a man much different, though he could see little more than his profile and hair, he’d expected him to be blond at least, being Ygraine’s brother.

The lights dimmed like they were in a theatre, a single spotlight illuminating the podium.  
Catrina looked like someone out of the pages of a magazine; even Merlin knew the red flashed on the soles of her shoes meant they were designer, the towering heels making her legs appear miles long in the fitted pencil skirt, her blouse displaying an enviable figure for a woman half her age. Her hair was long and had the sort of shine that Gwen assured Merlin women would happily kill for, styled away from her face. She was, as Arthur had said, an attractive woman.

But there was something in her expression as she stepped across the stage, the way she looked at the crowd, as if she were a Queen surveying her subjects and finding them somewhat lacking. Until her gaze fell on Uther in the front row next to Arthur, and a smile curved her lips.

“Hmmm”. Gaius’ frown was etched deep across his forehead as he took in the woman on stage.

“What?”

“It’s…we’ll see.” Falling silent once more, Gaius held up a hand to Merlin to stem the tide of his questioning.

As Catrina took to the podium, a hush fell over the crowd, all eyes on her. There was…something, something Merlin couldn’t put his finger on that was just…no surely he was being stupid. He’d picked up on Arthur’s discomfort with his father’s sudden engagement and was looking for any fault in Ms Tregor.

A few rows behind Merlin and Gaius, the projector whirred to live, the screen behind Catrina light up with the image of the Trust’s logo.

“Good Afternoon,” she addressed the hall, “I’m sure you’re all curious as to why you’re here. My name is Catrina Tregor and today I want to discuss the work of the Tregor Trust.”

“Here at the Royal Camelot you have a wonderful maternity wing, women having free access to the very best care from the moment of conception to their baby’s very first breath, and beyond. I have seen woman walk five miles in the height of labour to little more than a shed, a nurse with a ten year old ultrasound machine waiting to help deliver her child. Hours later, carrying her new-born, this woman will make the return journey, alone and in the dark. And this is the reality for hundreds of thousands of women.”

“It was on our last mission, that I lost my husband, Jonas. We were there to shine a light on the horrific conditions that refuges from political strife were in. Thousands of men, women and children suffering as they fled their homes for their lives. The lack of food and clean water, children, babies dying. A mere handful of doctors for thousands of people.” Catrina wiped away a tear as she took a shuddering breath.

 

“What had been set up as a temporary encampment, with only limited supplies had become a small town, tents and shacks and shanties spread as far as the eye could see.” The image behind her changed to a photograph of the conditions of the camp.

“However, even that was more than some others had, and the camp was under threat of invasion on a daily basis. When it came the attack was so sudden, there was no warning. The militia wanted a doctor, willing to take one by force. The slaughter-” Uther stood and strode to the steps and up to the platform, stepped and tucked Catrina against him. Her apology was muffled by his chest, taking a moment to compose herself once more. After a few seconds, she pulled away and stood up straight, head high as she visibly took a deep, shaking breath.

“Jonas, he tried to protect me, all of us. And he was…one of the doctors was killed and the other hadn’t the knowledge or experience to tend to my husband’s wounds.” She choked on the words, more tears spilling down her cheek.

“That is why I was so touched by Director Pendragon’s pledge to not only found a doctor exchange programme but to fund it as well,” she reached out to take Uther’s hand, standing proudly side by side.

“Promoting the exchange of medical knowledge and skill around the globe will give those that have dedicated their lives to aiding others an even greater capacity to provide relief and comfort to millions of people. All proceeds from the fundraiser at this year’s Christmas party, only a few weeks away, will go towards this goal.”

“The Tregor Trust also funds programmes for providing food and clean water, education and support to refugee camps around the world. Essentials such as education about sanitation, midwifery, nursing skills…it is not just doctors that are so desperately needed. All of you are in possession of expertise that could change the lives of so many.” Despite her watery eyes, her smile was brave and broad.

“If any of you are interested in learning more about doctor exchange programmes, of joining the Tregor Trust in its missions, please take one of the leaflets at the door. We always need bright, passionate and dedicated individuals. I know that if you are here, within Director Pendragon’s hospital, then you are the very best of the best. Thank you.” She inclined her head, accepting the round of applause with a small smile, dabbing delicately at the wetness upon her cheeks with a handkerchief Uther presented to her with a flourish.  
*** *** ***

“It's just terrible what she's been through. She’s very brave.” Merlin opined as he and Gaius strode down the hall having spent five minutes negotiating their way through the throng massed around the exit and Catrina.

“Yes.” Gaius didn’t sound convinced, a slight frown marring his brow. “Terrible, indeed.”

Gaius bumped into Merlin as he stopped suddenly, turning to his uncle. “What's wrong?

“Nothing.” Before Merlin could probe further, Arthur called out, standing impatiently by the door as colleagues swarmed by him, many carrying the colourful pamphlets that weighed down the tables that spanned the room.

“Merlin! Job for you.”

Waving to show he was coming, Merlin turned to his uncle. “Work, work, work.”  
**** **** ****  
“Would you sit down?” Arthur pointed at the empty chair beside him at the kitchen table, Merlin’s stew cooling in a bowl.

“Yeah, yeah in a sec, just wanna finish clearing up first.” Merlin as wiping the countertop down having piled all the used pans and utensils above the dishwasher.

“Your dad and Catrina seemed, uh, cozy.”

Arthur stirred his stew, jabbing at various unidentifiable lumps of probably-vegetable. It tasted alright, and it was nice of Merlin to offer to cook, he just needed more practice.

“I guess. That’s the most affection I’ve ever seen him express in public. Or in private for that matter.” It wasn’t bitter, just a statement of fact  
“What do you think of the doctor exchange programme?”

Arthur chewed, looking thoughtful. “It’s a good idea.” He nodded. “Give a chance to help share ideas and techniques, especially in the places that need it the most. If you can train a few people, they can go home and help train others.”

“Would you-”

“Go?”

Merlin nodded, suddenly unsure if he wanted to hear the answer; the thought of Arthur disappearing to another country, a war torn one at that warring with his admiration and pride in Arthur’s willingness to fling himself in where angels feared to tread.

“If the circumstances were right,” he shrugged, “the right time, the right place, absolutely. But not right now. Now eat your dinner.”

“In a sec. Get on with your own, take advantage of my largesse before I go find someone that’ll appreciate it more. Maybe that guy down the hall, with the really big-” He smiled wide as Arthur stuffed a huge spoonful into his mouth, chewing obscenely. “That’s better.”

“What meat is this?” Arthur asked, lowering his spoon, swallowing hard. “It has a very strange texture.”

“Ah,” Merlin prevaricated, busying himself packing the dishwasher.

“This isn’t pork is it?” Arthur asked, tone suggesting he knew the answer but was hoping against hope.

“Um, no not pork,” Merlin ducked behind the breakfast bar to stow the pans he hadn’t used. He heard Arthur’s spoon hit his bowl with a dull clunk and wet gloop.

“It’s not beef either is it?” It was more a statement than question and Merlin contemplated crawling into the cupboard before him; he was pretty sure if he removed the wok, which he was positive he had yet to see Arthur use, and the Le Crueset set that he knew his mother would happily sell him to have, he could fit in there. Although the handle being on the outside was a negative; Arthur would drag him out and then things would be…unpleasant.

The squeak of chair legs on tile gave Merlin some warning to dart to the side but given his hunched position he didn’t get far, Arthur easily hauling him up, pinning his arm behind his back and leaning him over the counter, draping himself over Merlin to nip at his ear.

Merlin put up a show of resisting but he really had no issues with where he found himself.

“It’s not chicken. Or pork. Or beef. Or lamb. Or game.” Arthur listed, breath warm and moist against this ear, each statement ending with a bite to Merlin’s neck.

Unable to muster words, Merlin shook his head, pressing himself back into Arthur, delighting in the feel of Arthur hardening against his ass, grinding his hips back into that length.

“So it was tofu or those soya chunks that look like dog food pellets.” Arthur scraped his teeth along the sliver of shoulder that Merlin’s rucked tee was revealing.  
“I did it for you,” Merlin gasped out as his head fell forward at the rasp of Arthur’ teeth against the back of his neck, unable to stop the moan as Arthur bit down on the swell of his vertebrae.

“Me. Really. And how is feeding me that helping me?” The soft sounds of Merlin’s panting breath was his only answer. Arthur released the hold he had on Merlin’s arm and scratched both hands down Merlin’s back to watch him arch and hear his moan, grasping his hips and stopping their movement, inching himself backwards to break their connection.

“No, Arthur, please.” Merlin squirmed, turning his head to beg a kiss.

“Help me how?” Arthur repeated, leaning forward to lick up Merlin’s neck.

“Next…oh yeah do that again. Next time Morgana says ‘how would you know you don’t like soya, you’ve never eaten it’ you can say you have.”

“How caring of you. But I prefer meat.”

“Oh God,” Merlin laughed and shook his head as if to clear the fog of lust, turning to glower over his shoulder. “If you say something about you eating my meat, I can never fuck you again.”

“I wasn’t.” Arthur denied hotly, “but you raise an interesting idea.” He stepped close again, using his hold to press Merlin’s ass back into him, suckling Merlin’s earlobe. “Get down there and suck my cock.”

“Bossy.” Merlin kicked out playfully with at Arthur’s shin, missing completely and hitting the door of a cupboard with his bare foot. “How can I when you won’t let me go? Make up your mind.”

“Bossy,” Arthur nipped at Merlin’s neck to hear him hiss, sucking a bruise to the skin, low where Merlin could hide it, even if Arthur didn’t want him to.

“Bossy and possessive.” Merlin grinned, moaning as Arthur bit hard into the base of his neck, scraping those sharp canines against the skin, shivers of heat licking down his spine, hips restlessly grinding back into Arthur, prompting him to only bite harder. Merlin’s head hung forward as he panted for breath, Arthur sucking air through his nose as he clamped down, hips rocking into Merlin, cock pressing hard into Merlin’s crease.

“You love it,” Arthur murmured, sounding breathless, nudging his nose against the marks he’d left, so violently pink against pale skin, the imprints of his teeth darkening as blood flooded back into the skin, swirling the tip of his tongue against the marks.

Faster than Arthur could tell Merlin to get to his knees, his boyfriend broke his hold, turned in his arms and pressed his palms against Arthur’s chest, forcing him back into the counter. Merlin bit his bottom lip as he lowered his hands to Arthur’s waistband, raising his eyebrows as he popped the button and lowered the zip. With a leer, Merlin reached inside, slipping his hand into Arthur’s boxers, rewarded with a sigh.

“God help me, I do.”

He withdrew his hand and before Arthur could hiss out a ‘tease’, he’d licked his palm, fast, from heel to tip and shoved his hand back into boxers, arm restricted in movement as his other hand scrabbled at pushing trousers and pants down.

“You could help.”  
Arthur tried but he seemed to just making it worse, moaning as Merlin twisted his grip around the head.

“Aha,” Merlin got a good grip on Arthur’s trousers and pants, tugging them down off slim hips, sliding with them to the floor, the hard tile cold under his knees. Glancing up at Arthur, Merlin sucked kiss after kiss across Arthur’s stomach, pushing the tee out of the way to get at skin, the scent of skin overlaid with laundry detergent as he trailed his lips around the curve of a hipbone.

“Suck me,” Arthur commanded, the tremor in his voice betraying his arousal.

Merlin snorted and didn’t, choosing instead to take it in hand, rubbing the head against the seam of his lips, smearing pre-come along his mouth, making it slick, getting Arthur attention, staring into his eyes as he slowly lapped it off, sucking his lower lips between his teeth.

“Filthy tease,” said Arthur, thrusting his hips towards Merlin trying to get him to take his cock between his lips, frustrated by Merlin leaning back before taking pity and dancing his tongue along the head, cocking his head to run his lips down the shaft, sucking at the base just before Arthur’s balls.

“Fucking finally…”

Arthur’s mouth fell open at the feel of Merlin’s mouth finally closing over his cock, lips tight behind the head, tonguing under the foreskin to slick across the head before sliding down to swallow the length into all that heat and suction. It felt like he was breathing molasses, air having to be dragged past his teeth and into his lungs.

Arthur’s head fell forward as Merlin withdrew, locking gazes as Merlin kept it slow and steady and tight, drawing back to allow Arthur’s cock to pop free of his mouth with a wet smack, guiding the head back to his lips with one hand to suckle the head, tongue rasping into the slit before his lover could complain.  
Merlin’s eyes were dark, lips stretched red and slick and Arthur could swear he was smirking as he jacked the shaft slow, twisting at the head.

With his free hand, Merlin grabbed at the hem of his tee and awkwardly managed to free one arm from it without dislocating his shoulder or pulling off. Arthur fumbled at the collar as Merlin switched hands and drew back, and together they were able to pull the shirt over Merlin’s hand to drop it immediately, Merlin’s hand grasping the soft, nearly hairless skin of Arthur’s inner thigh, Arthur’s sinking into that lush disordered hair. Not to push, not to hold, Merlin had made his thoughts clear on that front, but to touch, to connect.

Fighting the need to let his eyes close, Arthur stared in wonder at his boyfriend; the flushed skin across his chest, the tight nipples he was desperate to suck into his mouth and the erection straining at his jeans.

Pulling back, Merlin folded Arthur’s cock up against his belly, rubbing the length with his palm while he ran his tongue lower, mouthing at Arthur’s balls, tugging first one and then the other into his mouth, laving the weights before pressing against Arthur’s leg with his hand to spread him further, tonguing the stretch of skin behind.

Then Merlin found his rhythm and Arthur couldn’t last long, tongue pressed hard into the underside of his cock, hand sliding up Arthur’s thigh, thumb pressing behind his balls and fingers sliding up into Arthur’s crack to rub firmly at his hole, tip of one finger just breaching without pushing inside, retreating to rub again.  
Stroke and twist and suck and rub, stroke and twist and suck and rub, stroke and twist and suck and rub-

Arthur’s back arched, pressing his cock further into Merlin’s mouth, fingers in Merlin’s hair tightening, palm of the other hand slapping into the cupboard door he was leaning against.

Rather than fight gravity, Arthur let himself sink to the floor, uncaring about the handle digging between his shoulder blades, grasping Merlin’s ears and pulling him closer, kissing him long and hard, pressing Merlin further and further back, never so grateful about just how flexible his boyfriend was as he crawled over him, intent on returning the favour.

Merlin bit at Arthur’s lips, hands slipping beneath Arthur’s jeans to dig into his ass, nails scratching up to his lower back.

“Bed. Now.”

“Here’s good,” Arthur breathed.

“Knees say otherwise. Bed, now.”

Arthur struggled back and tugged Merlin back onto his knees, and then pulled him to standing, taking the opportunity to tug him in close, the feel of rough jeans against his cock just the good side of painful.

Merlin dragged Arthur down the hall, frustrated when Arthur immediately stumbled, laughing as he watched him try to kick and dance and squirm his way out of the tangled mass of clothing around his ankles, the trousers finally getting kicked against a cupboard, Arthur shout of triumph cut off as Merlin tugged him quickly down the hall. Merlin more or less shoved Arthur down onto the unkempt bed, falling on top of him as he tried to tug Arthur’s shirt over his head.

“Is this what happens when I get possessive? When I mark you for all to see?” Arthur’s fingers splayed on Merlin’s nape, the teeth marks still detectable, sharply sore if the other man’s hiss was anything to go by, Merlin burying his head in Arthur’s neck, hand racking down Arthur’s chest to leave score marks of his own, wrapping his hand around Arthur’s half-hard cock.

“Oh, ow, fuck!” Arthur bucked, still sensitive, squirming as he tried to thrust into the grip and pull away. “Bastard.”

Merlin rolled off him onto his back, hips thrusting into the air as he shoved his jeans to his knees before reaching for Arthur, pulling him on top, making him straddle Merlin. “Please,” he croaked, thrusting up as his cock slid against Arthur’s balls.

It was too soon for Arthur to come again, but that didn’t stop him enjoying the ride.

“Shit! Lube!” Merlin’s head whipped to the side, crestfallen at the distance to the bedside table, hand flailing vainly as if he could bring it closer.

“Use the Force, Emrys, use the Force.”

“Shut it.”

Merlin unseated Arthur and rolled swiftly to the side, throwing open the drawer with the such force it flew out onto the floor, pencils and condoms and bits of paper going flying.

“Don’t say a word,” Merlin barked over his shoulder as he pulled a condom and some lube out of the wreckage. A sharp slap to his ass had him jumping, pressing his cock into the mattress before rolling over in shock to stare at an inscrutable Arthur.

“For that, you can do it,” said Merlin handing over the lube with one hand and starting to stroke himself with the other, smirking at how Arthur’s eyes followed the movement.

“Alright. But you can’t say you didn’t like it.” Merlin shoved Arthur onto his back and sat up between his spread legs, stroking himself softly.  
Arthur was determined to put on a good show for him, arching into the touch of his hand as he cupped his balls, thrusting into the air as he rolled them, free hand snicking open the lube and coating his fingers. He trailed his slick fingertips down the crease of his thigh before he tugged lightly at his balls, dipping lower to tease at his hole, slipping just one finger out before withdrawing to stroke his cock, only to return and fill himself again.

Blindly, Merlin reached out for the lube, pouring more on the bedding than himself, too mesmerized by the view of Arthur breaching himself with two fingers to care, watching those fingers thrust deep and hard and reached to pinch a tight nipple between forefinger and thumb.

“Yes…” Arthur’s eyes locked on Merlin’s, fingers thrusting faster as his hips thrust down, trying to get more, always more. “Fuck me, please, now.”  
Squeezing the base of his cock, wincing at the denial, Merlin shook his head.

“Three,” he countered

“Tease,” Arthur accussed, but swiftly folded his ring finger alongside the others, easing them back in slowly, a slight rotating movement to screw his fingers in. To ease the way, Merlin took pity and leant over, tonguing the tip of Arthur’s cock, the renewed erection still so sensitive and harsh, needy sounds spilling from him.

Sitting up and rolling onto his back, Merlin fumbled for the condom packet, ripping it between his teeth and rolling it on, slicking himself up. He’d barely laid flat before Arthur was scrambling over him, setting onto his hips, one hand reaching behind to stand Merlin’s cock upright, holding it steady as he rubbed the head against his hole.

“Payback.” Arthur laughed at Merlin’s agonised groan before letting his weight settle, pushing down, mouth going slack.

The blunt head of him breeched Arthur, the shaft sliding in slow as he stretched him, filled him as he shoved backwards, impaling himself.

No matter how much Merlin might _want_ it to last, after blowing Arthur in the kitchen, he was too keyed up and didn’t bother wasting time being startled by Arthur’s hijacking of their coupling; it was hardly surprising given Arthur was hardly the passive type, especially during sex.

“So…bossy,” Merlin gasped out, grasping Arthur by the hips to pull him down as he thrust up, guiding Arthur into swivelling his hips, trying to dictate his rhythm.  
“You’ve got a problem with it right now?!” Arthur asked, clenching his hole around Merlin. Despite his hardening cock, Arthur was unlikely to come again, but riding Merlin, watching his boyfriend fall apart was more than just physical pleasure.

“Not…” Merlin thrust up hard and fast, shallow, powerful thrusts as he stared into Arhtur’s eyes, “right now, no.” He groaned and reached for Arthur, tugging him down until he could reach his mouth, starving for his kiss and smiling at the surprised ‘oof’ as he rolled them, lifting Arthur’s legs to his shoulders as he chased climax, fire racing down his spine as his hips snapped, fingers clawing into the duvet.

Merlin’s hips felt liquid, Arthur making needy sounds deep in his throat, breath harsh in Merlin’s ear. “Give it up, Emrys,” Arthur whispered into his ear, hands gripping into Merlin’s ass, fingers rubbing over his hole, one slim still slick finger sliding inside.

It was enough. It was too much, his head hung heavy on his shoulders as Merlin came deep in Arthur, hips bucking as his cries were muffled into Arthur’s neck, Arthur’s hands shifting to stroke up his spine, one hand cradling the nape of his neck as he encouraged Merlin to slump against him, wincing as Merlin pulled out and clumsily tried to help him stretch out his legs before collapsing down onto Arthur’s chest.  
*** *** ***  
It was a suspiciously slow day; from the unexpected flurry of snow outside he’d expected bedlam between the lack of salt on the roads inexperienced drivers, cocky ones, pedestrians slipping and yet here he was cooling his heels and no Arthur to drag to an empty cubicle.

Instead he was immersed in building a Jenga tower of packed bandages next to a replica of The Leaning Tower of Pisa out of rolls of gauze and his tongue-depressor timber cabin had been worthy of a picture sent to Gwaine.

“Good to see you’re such a valuable member of the team.” Gaius looked every inch the elderly doctor, his glasses askew on his head, white hair brushing his shoulders, his normally calming manner disordered.

“Whatever it is I didn’t do it,” rushed Merlin, taking in the deep frown and the way Gaius was rubbing at his temples as though his head was likely to explode.

“Not yet you haven’t.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Your number one fan, Uther, wants you to show his new fiancée around, help her set up her office.”

“What?!” Merlin’s tower toppled down into an untidy heap, demolishing the cabin, supplies scattering over the desk and spilling onto the floor.

“Why me? I’m a doctor, why can’t a member of the Board do it, or Uther’s secretary or…or…anyone else?”

“Such is the price of bravery,” intoned Gaius. “He considers you a shining example of the calibre of doctor he hires.”

“He what?”

“You couldn’t listen to me, oh no, you had to go and get noticed. ”

Frowning, Merlin studied his uncle’s face, unsure of what he saw there; something about the whole situation was bothering the man, but he wasn’t prepared to share with Merlin. Which rankled rather a lot.

“There’s something you don’t trust in her isn’t there?” he whispered, standing to move around the desk, ducking to collect up the mess on the floor.  
“Would you? A mere month they’ve known each other and he’s proposing?”

“It takes people like that sometimes, doesn’t it? Whirlwind romance and all that?” Merlin dumped his armful onto a trolley and began to sort it.  
“Uther’s…I can’t quite put my finger on it, but he’s changed.”

“I saw him smile yesterday. Can’t be all bad.” Merlin thought about it for a second. “Ok, well yes, it was a little creepy, sort of shark-y but if she makes him happy-”

“Hmmm. It’s her influence that is concerning me. She has no background in hospital management in health care but she’s making suggestions in his ear…Give me a little time to ponder on it.”

Gaius adjusted his lab coat, drawing a very crumbled tie from one pocket.

“Ah, I wondered where that had gotten to.” Slinging the tie around his neck, he looked up and seemed surprised to see Merlin still there.

“Why are you still here? Catrina and Agravaine are waiting by the fountain. Off you go.”

Hesitating, Merlin looked around the A&E it may have been quiet just then but all that could change in a second and he wouldn’t leave his colleagues-

“I’ll cover you until you return; one of my surgeries has been delayed so I have an hour or so.” When Merlin still made no move, Gaius raised his eyebrows.

“I’m going, I’m going.”  
*** *** *** ***  
“Ms Tregor, Mister DuBois, good afternoon,” said Merlin, offering his hand to first Catrina and then Agravaine, taking the time to study Arthur’s uncle. Though of a similar underlying build to Arthur, they shared no common features; Arthur’s hair was a straw blond whilst Agravaine’s was almost as dark as Merlin’s own. Where Arthur’s eyes were a brilliant blue, his uncle’s were brown and the man reminded Merlin of nothing so much as a weasel. Or a snake.

“Forgive me, but I didn't get your name.”

“Merlin. Uh, Doctor Emrys.”

“Do call me Catrina.” Her smile was warm. “I understand you were quite the hero of the hour when that mad boy went on the rampage.”

Merlin felt the blush creep up his neck, his pale skin betraying him in seconds. “Oh, no, no, that was a joint effort, we all just wanted everyone to stay calm. If I was able to-”

“Nonsense, the way I heard it, you were The Camelot’s champion.”

Cheeks flaming, Merlin settled for smiling, but further insisted, “Arthur and Elena were brilliant.”

That caught Agravaine’s attention. “That sounds like my nephew,” he said, though his smile didn’t reach his eyes. There was something about him that made Merlin uneasy; the older man had that sort of charm that was borderline oily, with none of Arthur’s warmth or charisma.

“Anyway, my love told me that you’d be able to help me with learning the hospital and setting up my office.” Catrina continued as if Agravaine hadn’t spoken.  
“I’ll do my best.” Merlin grinned, thumbing the lift call button.

“I just hope it’s enough.” It was said with a slight smile, but Agravaine’s tone wasn’t jovial.  
*** *** ***  
Under the gun, Merlin kept the tour short, aware that Gaius would have no choice but to leave when his clinic hours began.

“I'm sorry if it's not quite what you're used to, I’m sure your offices at the Trust-”

“Merlin, considering the last hospital I was volunteering at was a handful of shacks and tents, this is a veritable palace. Thank you.”

Dropping her handbag onto the desk, Catrina began to unwind the cord from the telephone and looked around the skirting board.

“Well, if you need anything, just ask. Uh, someone from IT will be done with your computer system shortly, and”  
“You’ve been most kind. Clearly Uther is dedicated to ensuring his staff is not simply qualified to do their job, but also willing to lend a helping hand. I find that so refreshing in this day and age.”  
**** **** ****

“There is something really different about Catrina.” Handing a cup of coffee to his uncle, Merlin brushed the seat clean of snow and sat next to him on the bench, pulling his coat closer around himself, staring out at the carpet of brilliant white that covered the courtyard. Only accessible to staff, there had been no others that had, preferring to stay indoors and go the long way around from one side to the other, leaving the snow almost perfectly undisturbed, the only footprints his own and Gaius’.

“Oh?”

“Most of Uther's benefactors just treat me like I'm dirt on their shoes, if they notice me at all, but she was really nice, even after all she's been through.”

“Yes. She always was very gracious.”

“You've met her before?”

“Oh, it was many years ago. I doubt that she would remember.”

“You don’t trust her do you?” asked Merlin, confused by his normally friendly uncle’s reticence towards Catrina. “Yes, the marriage thing was a bit, alright a lot, quick but she seems nice and makes Uther happy, so…”

“I don’t know her, Merlin.”

“But you just said you’d me-”

“A lot of water has passed beneath that bridge.”

“So why not get to know her? Your practically Uther’s best friend.” He thought about it. “You’re his only real friend actually, really. The rest are all Board members who’d bay for blood the moment they no longer earned oodles from this place.”

“There’s something…” the old man shook his head. “I can’t explain it Merlin, but there’s something about her, about her story that’s just got me…oh go do some work for a change and leave me five free minutes before the hordes descend.” So saying, he shooed Merlin away, pointing with finality in the direction of the A&E, as if his nephew didn’t know the way.  
*** *** ***  
“I met Catrina today,”called Merlin as he rummaged through the hallway closet as he took the plunge and dove into a box of unidentified odd and ends, searching fruitlessly for favourite beanie. No matter how much affection Arthur had for his ears, especially when they were bright red from cold, Merlin would prefer for them not to drop off from frostbite and the sub-zero temperatures looked set to continue all through December. He idly wondered if he should put a bet on whether or not it would be a white Christmas.

“Oh, and your uncle-aha!” Triumphant, Merlin tugged his beanie free, only to find it was the remains of Gwaine’s Tarzan costume. “Oh, gross, no, no, no.” Flinging the garment away, he started sorting through the detritus on the floor of the closet, trying for as little contact between his hands and it.  
“My uncle Aha?” Arthur teased from the bathroom, spitting out toothpaste and rinsing the brush.

“How long have they been business partners?”

“Hmmm? Oh, er, few years I think.” He rinsed and spat. “Did you make a fool of yourself?”

“No!” Merlin grimaced. “Well, maybe, but no more so than usual.

“What do you think of my future step-mother?” Arthur light tone was deceptive. Merlin knew his answer was going to be important.

“She seems nice. Pretty.” Merlin didn’t share that he’d been less enamoured with Agravaine; his first impressions of Arthur had been similarly less than impressive and look at where they were now.

The blood chilling scream that rang out did save him from having to answer any questions pertaining to Agravaine, but did also cause him to bang the back of his head into the door handle as he sprang up.

“Are you alrig-” Merlin banged the bathroom door open, taking in the mess of the bathroom he’d meticulously cleaned not an hour previous; Arthur bitched endlessly about what Gwaine might get up to in there whenever he stayed over.

“Fuck, Arthur, what did you do?” he asked as he stared at the clutter of bottles and razors than had fallen from the shelf above the sink to litter around the stem of the basin and some sort of liquid was dripping down the mirror and wall.

“What is that?” He gestured at the wall, turning and seeing Arthur hurriedly tucking himself away. Merlin’s head snapped back to the wall and put two and two together.

“You pissed up the wall?” Arthur staggered under the force of Merlin’s shove, one foot slipping in-

“Oh eww.” Arthur hopped on one leg to yank his foot into the basin and wash it off, scrabbling to grip the edge to stay standing when Merlin shoved him again, though he did catch his boyfriend checking around his own feet and hastily stepping back.

“I didn’t piss up the wall,” Merlin raised his eyebrows and pointed to the rather damning evidence. “I didn’t. I was startled and I-”

“Pissed up the wall?”

“Would you get off that?” Arthur set about drying off his foot, meticulously scrubbing between his toes to ward off athletes foot like his nanny had taught him and carefully placing his foot on the floor.

“I got startled and I jumped and I’d like to see you aim when you’re sca-startled.” Arthur glanced at the floor.

“Sca-startled, or just _scared?_ And what were you scared of?” Merlin wheedled, “Did you catch sight of your morning face in the mirror?”

“Shut up Merlin.” Arthur reached around his lover to try and grasp the doorknob but was blocked when Merlin stepped backwards, forcing the door to click shut.

“Scared. Of. What?”

“There is no good time to learn there is a fucking huge spider in the bathroom, but when it runs across your foot mid-piss is a pretty bad one.” Arthur glared at his boyfriend at the unattractive guffaw that echoed uncomfortably loud in the small tiled room.

“You-did the iddy biddy,” Merlin couldn’t finish before folding up with laughter again.

“Oh fuck off.” Arthur muscled Merlin out of way, not quite mean enough to push him into the puddle on the floor, and wrenched the door open but not quick enough to get away. Merlin’s stupidly strong fingers closed about his wrist and tugged him back and he watched, peeved, as Merlin’s dark head disappeared beneath the sink and heard bottles wobble and topple as Merlin rummaged.

“Aha.” Standing straight, Merlin turned Arthur’s wrist in his grip, slapping a pair of Marigolds into Arthur’s slack palm. The Marigold’s with the floral cuff that Arthur had laughingly purchased for Merlin.

“Whilst I’m sure you’re very impressed with how high you got up the wall, but you’re gonna have to be a big boy now, and scrub everything,” Merlin was unable to control his smirk, “and if it passes inspection, I’ll even find the big bad spider and remove it for you. You’ve got thirty minutes until dinner is ready, and about fifteen until everyone starts to arrive.” He patted Arthur on the head, as he let go of his wrist and tugged open the door striding down the hallway, his laughter defying the laws of physics and getting louder the further away he got.

***** *****

“Honestly. Look at them.” Arthur jerked his head at the sleek coupe rolling to a halt at the curb, the top down despite the December chill, Uther Pendragon nimbly jumping out and crossing to the passenger side, opening the door and presenting his hand with a flourish as he aided a giggling Catrina from her seat, seeing her safety to the pavement before ducking into the low car to retrieve her, no doubt designer, handbag. Locking the car remotely as they walked away, Uther escorted his fiancée into the hospital, reaching to open the door with one hand while the other dropped to stroke over her ass as she went past.

“I see where you learnt your moves.”

“I beg your pardon.” Arthur sounded scandalised.

“He’s an ass man too-” Not fast enough in his retreat, Merlin found himself squished beneath Arthur on the bench they were eating a quick lunch on, which ordinarily he had no problems with, but Tupperware wasn’t ordinarily digging into his kidneys.

“I will never fuck you again if you think of finishing that sentence.”

“Yes you will.”

“Oh?”

Sneaking a quick look around for witnesses, and glad to find the back-lot devoid of other people, Merlin gave a small thrust, circling his hips into Arthur’s, letting a moan slip from his lips and smirked in victory as Arthur sank down onto him, pupils blown, eyes focused on Merlin’s mouth.

“See?”

“You’re so unattractive when you’re smug.”

“Want me to prove that’s a lie too?” He made to snake a hand between them but Arthur intercepted it and pushed himself upright, and if he used Merlin’s stomach to do so and exerted a lot of force on it, then that was totally accidental.

“Don't you think it's odd how quickly they've become close?”

“There's nothing odd about that. My father's a wealthy and powerful man. That attracts attention.”

“But so impulsive? Even you said that was odd.”

“He’s happy. How can I argue with that? Apparently they knew each other as children-”

“It’s been some time since childhood.”

Arthur laughed. “Are you calling my father old?”

“Umm.” Merlin eschewed answering, which would no doubt get him into further trouble, instead cramming a massive wedge of sandwich into his mouth.

“Sexy.”

“Hmmmhmm.”

“Never wanted you more.”

“Ihmm no.”  
***** **** ****  
Arthur lay in the middle of the bed, naked body flushed, a fine sheen of sweat across his chest, shoulders and arms. His chest was heaving, ribs pumping like bellows as his muscles fought for what they’d been deprived, light headed as he calm down from his high.

It didn’t help that Merlin was still lying atop him but he wasn’t about to make him move; he liked Merlin right where he was. And if he went into cardiac arrest, he had a doctor already in the room. Very convenient that.

“You’re like Morgana, aren’t you?” Merlin frowned.

“How? And what’s she got to do with our sex life?”

“You became a doctor because of Will. Like her and Gorlois.”

“Oh, yeah,” agreed Merlin. “Well, and my uncle. Mum was thrilled, I… I don’t know, I sometimes get the feeling dad might have been a doctor, but I’ve never asked. Just things she’s said, about being a doctor running in the family. I don’t know. I just wanted to help people.”

“So why did you want to be a doctor? I mean, it was hardly like you were going to be anything else, not with your parents, but why not a surgeon like your mum?”  
Arthur was quiet for so long Merlin had given up on an answer, trying to word an apology; he had felt and heard how Arthur’s heart had sped up at the question, how his breathing had become shallow and fast. When the answer came it was the last answer he would have expected. Or wanted.

“I killed my mother.”

Merlin didn’t so much freeze as just stop. He stopped blinking, stopped moving, stopped breathing. And then as quickly as it came it passed, his grip on Arthur tightened. Merlin’s heart broke at the surety and tremble in Arthur’s voice. The guilt and complete conviction that what he said was true.

“No Arthur, no,” he tried to sit up but Arthur tightened his hold, free hand coming up to press against Merlin’s head to keep it atop his chest. Resisting for only a moment, Merlin acquiesced, lying along Arthur’s side but he could not keep quiet.

“Arthur you didn’t.” He hadn’t, of course he hadn’t. Merlin had heard enough gossip around the hospital when he’d joined the programme, Google and Gaius filling in much of the rest. Arthur had inherited Ygraine’s golden hair and clear blue eyes. She’d been a talented surgeon, specialising in paediatrics, well respected and hugely popular with her patients and their families. She’d spoken out more than once about her fertility struggles and desire for children, along with her excitement about improving IVF methods. She’d shone a light on how women were still being made to feel guilty, to feel a failure for not being able to conceive or carry a child to term.

After seemingly endless rounds of IVF Ygraine had conceived her longed for child. But the pregnancy was far from easy, extreme Hyperemisis Gravidum left her incapable of caring for herself; she could barely stand up without passing out or vomiting or in one horrific incident that terrified Uther who was with her, both at once. Her brother Tristan had come to live with the Pendragons during her pregnancy to keep an eye on her whilst Uther was working.

In the six months that followed, she’d lost over twenty pounds, an already petite woman becoming frail, but she never complained not once, merely dubbing the nascent Arthur ‘Rascal’. She’d been hospitalised for dehydration and malnutrition twice because she was so stubborn that despite being a doctor she refused to get help, instead trying to hide symptoms from Uther and Tristan.

When her water had broken six weeks prematurely Uther had been performing surgery so it had been Tristan that had helped his sister into the car, Tristan who had stowed the little overnight bag behind the driver’s seat and Tristan who’d died instantly when the runaway car had smashed into his side of the car. A faulty handbrake, the official report had stated. The car had been parked on a driveway at the top of a hill, and as the brake disengaged it’d started to roll, picking up speed quickly due to the steep gradient, finally rocketing across the junction, its lack of lights making the dark car difficult for Tristan to see in the night gloom.  
Despite Tristan’s side of the car taking the brunt of the impact, the fire fighters had needed the Jaws Of Life to cut the unconscious Ygraine free. She’d regained consciousness for mere moments in the back of the ambulance, eyes hazy as she looked at the paramedic busy inserting a canula. She’d tried to focus before murmuring _‘if this is labour pains, I’m getting drugs on the next one._ ’ She didn’t wake up again.

Upon her arrival at The Royal Camelot, Doctor Nimueh Chalice had performed an emergency caesarean section, saving Arthur but unable to save the life of her best friend. Ygraine had lost too much blood, entering major organ failure and died on the table. As his son was born, Uther operated in the neighbouring theatre, thirty feet away as his wife slipped away. Doctor Chalice had stood outside his theatre for two hours waiting for him; despite her own grief over the loss of her closest friend, she was unable to allow someone else to break the news.

Uther had been devastated, falling to his knees as tears coursed down his cheeks, screaming until he went hoarse, howling obscenities and pleas, blame and prayers. Chalice had sent for Gaius, unable to bear Uther’s grief as well as her own. She’d resigned, left the hospital that night never to return. Gaius had informed Merlin that Uther hadn’t so much as asked about his son for three days after his birth.

“You were a _child_ Arthur. A baby. It was an accident. You’re mother wanted you more than anything and she loved you. You didn’t kill her.”

Merlin pressed the words into Arthur’s skin, lips over that too-big heart, hoping that if he said it enough, with enough love and conviction that it would seep into Arthur’s heart, into his bones and blood, the knowledge that he was innocent coursing through his veins.

“It was my fault. She was so weak, so ill with me that she couldn’t fight. If not for me, she could have lived.” He huffed out mocking laugh. “You once asked if I was trained to be a prat since birth. Well now you know the truth of it, I was trained to kill.”

“No. "

“If I hadn’t been premature-”

“No.” Resisting Arthur’s restraining hand, Merlin heaved himself upright, clambering over Arthur until he sat astride his belly, forcing Arthur to look at him when he tried to turn his head away.

“You’re trying to what? Atone? Is that what it is? That for every life you save, you make up for your mother just a little? How many do you think you’ll have to save to atone entirely? Thirty? Forty? This is your way of making up for it.” Merlin hated the look in Arthur’s eyes, an ugly mix of shame and self-loathing marring the blue gaze.

“Father blames me.”

That Merlin could well imagine, though he knew it was mean of him. If someone stole Arthur from him…Merlin would never forgive the person who took him away. But that hadn’t been Arthur. Or Nimueh. Or even the owner of the car. Some nameless, faceless engineer who had approved the design of the brake was to blame. The model had been recalled and Uther had received an enormous pay-out. But it hadn’t given him his wife back, or Arthur his mother. And while Uther could never forgive them, Merlin would never forgive Uther. That he had sat by and let his son believe that he wasn’t loved because Uther had loved Ygraine more…he didn’t deserve Arthur for a a son if he thought like that.

“Shhh…no…You were a baby. Just a little baby. Your father is an idiot. An emotionally stunted, affection allergic, guilt stricken idiot.” He paused for a moment. “Even if he is the Director.”

“He never talks of her. It’s almost like she never existed. He collected together all her things, I don’t know what he did with them,” Arthur’s gaze slid away from Merlin, and his lover allowed it, instead grasping his hands and gripping them hard as he pressed a kiss to each knuckle. “Even all her pictures. I only have what Gaius gave me and what little there is on the internet.”

“My mother is the same,” he shared, opening up his own grief to Arthur, “I don’t even know what happened to my father, she never mentions him and I don’t want to upset her by asking. Gaius told me he would tell me when I wanted to know but…mum was enough. It seemed…” he shrugged and shook his head, “greedy to want to know more. I kept thinking she’d find out I wanted to know and think she wasn’t enough. Cos she was.”

“Must be nice.” Merlin leant forward to encase Arthur in his arms, pressing him into the mattress, knowing there was nothing he could do. So he held Arthur to him, one strong hand between his shoulder blades to hold him close, soft mouth and gentle voice at his ear, promising he was loved, he wasn’t responsible, that he had Merlin now.

They slept that night tangled together beneath the sheets, Arthur safe in the cradle of Merlin’s body.  
*** *** ***  
“Merlin!” Gwaine called out, his friend turning away from the counter where he was buying their lunches, quizzical expression on his face.

“Next time, don’t ride your boy so hard he can’t sit down!” The coffee cup in the teller’s hand slipped and sloshed all across the counter, spluttering apologies spilling after.

“Did you have to do that?” Arthur complained, desperately trying to fight down the blush that rapidly spread across his cheeks.

“Nope,” Gwaine allowed easily, not even attempting to hide his grin, leaning over to smack a loud, and distressingly wet, to Arthur’s cheek.

“Gah, get off,” Arthur pushed at Gwaine’s shoulder and face, trying to shove him of the chair entirely.

“Awww, you’re no fun, you know that?” Gwaine complained, but he did at least keep his limbs and lips to himself, turning instead to wave at a table of young nurses, who then all broke into laughter, a couple of them brave enough to wave back.

“He’s plenty of fun,” Merlin slid the two trays he carried onto the table, loaded down with coffee, some pre-packaged and frankly unappealing sandwiches and a couple apples.

“Yeah, but can you make his face this red?” Gwaine asked, investigating one of the sandwich packs.

“Oh,” Merlin slid into the booth and leant against Arthur for a moment, tucking one of his feet between Arthur’s. “I can, just not in public.”

“Merlin!” Arthur remonstrated. Merlin’s penitent kiss was far more pleasant, not to mention welcome, than Gwaine’s and Arthur smiled, twisting his head so their lips met, chaste and soft.

“You got it bad, Princess,” Gwaine tossed the sandwich back onto the tray, plucking up an apple instead, the loud crunch of his bite seeming to echo in the large cafeteria.

“Oh shut up,” Arthur picked up the discarded sandwich, peeling back the cellophane.

“After the months of watching you two tap-dance around each other, I deserve a little entertainment.”

“Won’t the party tomorrow be enough entertainment?”

“That depends,” he asked, half-masticated apple on display, “open bar again this year?”

“Gwaine, when has it not?”

“Well, after last year-”

“What happened last year?”

“Gwaine here,” the man in question took a small bow, “kept sneaking bottles from behind the bar, and taking them down to his locker.”

“Top shelf stuff, too.”

“Yes, I know.”

“Wouldn’t have bothered for cheap stuff.”

“Yes you would.”

“And when that was full, he used my locker. And Freya’s. How many full bottles did you nick?”

“Only about four hundred pounds worth.”

“Gwaine!” Merlin wasn’t sure if he was impressed or appalled. He certainly wasn’t surprised.

“Don’t be like that, you’re enjoying that bottle of Grey Goose aren’t you?”

“Tha-not-well, okay, yes.”

“Thank you, you’re welcome. If you give me the code to your lock-”

“Gwaine,” warned Arthur.

“What? You really going to spend all night policing me, when you can be showing Merlin off to everyone.”

“He has a point.”

“You are not showing me off like some prize pony. Gwaine, what did you have to say that for?”

“For hundreds of pounds worth of free booze.”

“That booze is not free-”

“Do you have to pay for it Arthur?”

“Well, no.”

“There you go. You just need to concentrate on how hot my man here is in a suit.” Arthur eyes went hazy, a dopey expression on his face as he looked Merlin up and down as his boyfriend rolled his eyes and stole his sandwich.

A sudden thought seemed to strike Arthur and he looked up in alarm.

“Do you even have a suit?”  
**** **** ***  
Merlin was used to a conference room, sadly decorated with tired streamers used for years, a plastic Christmas tree decorated with lametta and plastic baubles, empty boxes wrapped in slightly faded and torn paper tied with ribbon sitting beneath while the outdated sound-system blared out Christmas song after Christmas song.

But this…this was something else.

Uther knew how to throw a party.

Merlin figured he was going to need to stay pretty close to the open bar if he was to survive the large quantity of Board members and benefactors that he recognised in the crowd, their suits and gowns screaming money so loudly that his own M&S best felt shoddy and ill-made in comparison despite Arthur graciously announcing that it would do. He couldn’t see Arthur, but he couldn’t see Uther or Catrina either and no doubt he was holed up with the First Family in order for some grand entrance; he’d been expecting Arthur to come to the flat to join the group coming over but had received a text message that he’d been summoned to his father’s study and would see him at the party.

The bar spanned the entire length of one side of the ballroom, temporary shelves behind the suited staff stocked with a volume and array of liquors that most bars would be envious of and Merlin could see why Gwaine had been tempted, and disappeared from his side within microseconds of entering the ballroom. There were already clusters of people clutching brightly coloured cocktails and flutes of champagne as they stood beneath the festive boughs of holly and ivy twined with mistletoe that hung from the ceiling.

An enormous Douglas Fir had been erected in one corner, the star at its tip brushing the ceiling. It was festooned in ribbons and tinsel, baubles and bows, a photographer at the right, couples and friends having their pictures taken, handed tickets to collect the images later. A band was setting up on a dais to the other side of the tree, their singer taking the microphone in hand.

“Decent turn out this year,” Lance said as Merlin bellied up to the buffet, snagging a plate he swiftly piled high with puff pastries, mini mince pies and tiny roast-dinner sandwiches.

“God help you; your cholesterol is going to be your worst enemy one of these days.” Lance chortled as Merlin gave up on filling the plate after a small avalanche of hors d'oeuvres nearly spilt off the side, and started popping the delicacies straight into his mouth, chewing with obvious enjoyment.

“I can hear your arteries clogging.” The band started up, a rendition of ‘Baby Its Cold Outside’. Grinning, Lance left him to his gluttony as Gwen approached, resplendent in a red velvet gown and sky scraper heels as she took her fiancées hand to lead him backwards to the dance floor, waving her free hand at Merlin, rolling her eyes at his hamster cheeks.

Percy had gotten Freya out onto the floor too, his massive bulk shrouded in a dark suit, the boutonniere matching beautifully to the purple of Freya’s dress that billowed around her legs as he twirled her around.

Returning his attention to the food, Merlin began to systematically try everything on the table. The buffet wasn’t crowded and it was out of the way and inconspicuous; he could easily evade anyone that looked like they were important or might ask him questions.  
Reaching past a large man who was heavily reliant on a cane that more resembled a staff, Merlin snagged a slice of the decadent yule log and it wasn’t until the cake was on his plate, and the sweet icing licked from his thumb that he recognised the man; Aulfric, Senior Board Member. And he was staring at Merlin.  
Aulfric gave Merlin a long look, eyes sweeping down his body, a slight sneer curling his lip as he took in the inexpensive suit and polished yet irreparably scuffed dress shoes.

“Who are you?” He asked as his eyes returned to Merlin’s. Merlin held his plate tightly, like a shield that doubled as a handy vessel for finger food as he faked a smile. “Doctor Emrys.” And wasn’t it pathetic that he still got a kick of saying that? It was his own equivalent of a ‘fuck you’ to all those that told him he’d never amount to anything, that the son of a working class single mother was dreaming when he said he wanted to be a doctor.

“I’m a Specialty Registrar in the A&E.”

“Oh.” Aulfric seemed surprised. “I assumed you were staff.” His glance at the waiters refreshing platters further down the table and unobtrusively gliding between the partygoers with champagne flutes on silver salvers, told Merlin that he hadn’t meant _hospital_ staff.

“A&E…” Aulfric cocked his head, hands twisting on his cane as he leant heavily on it. “You’re the Pendragon boy’s aren’t you?”

Merlin bristled at being defined by his boyfriend, no matter how much he happened to love the man. “We are in a relationship, yes.” Merlin couldn’t help the defensive tone in his voice, nor did he want to; he wasn’t going to hide or be ashamed or even be looked upon as a gold-digger by this man or anyone. He wasn’t stupid, he’d seen the looks people gave him at work, heard the whispers the ceased the second he came into range and it was the same here, now that those that gossiped had all the time they wanted and alcohol to loosen lips.

He waited for Aulfric’s reaction as his mind helpfully scrolled though endless suggestions as to how the man would respond, preparing for acceptance or scorn, but there was nothing in the man’s expression other than a polite interest and assessment.

“And you dealt with that mad man. That lunatic boy.” Something akin to respect coloured Aulfric’s tone as he extended his hand. “Pleasure.” Stunned by the apparent end to their conversation, Merlin shifted the plate to his left hand to free up his right.

He was incredibly relieved to watch the Board Member walk away. He wanted to enjoy this party, to have fun with his friends so he could eat, drink and be merry. He didn’t want to have to play the game, to have to talk to anyone else, especially when, looking around, he felt like he was from another planet; this was Arthur’s world, this opulence and grandeur and when he thought about it, he felt terribly out of place.

“You gave Gwaine the combination didn’t you?” Arthur’s question was little more than a purr into his ear and Merlin almost dropped his plate, choosing instead to place it onto the table top and turn in the circle of Arthur’s arms, relief flooding through him, making him melt into Arthur’s body. If Arthur wanted him here, then here he would be.

“Hmm?” Merlin couldn’t resist dropping a kiss onto Arthur’s pouting lips.

“To your locker.”

A quick scan of the bar confirmed that Gwaine was no longer chatting to an attractive blonde waitress.

“Ah.” He raised his eyebrows. “What answer will get me in the least trouble.”

“None.”

This time Merlin cocked one eyebrow but sucked his lower lip between his teeth, biting down on the plump flesh. “In that case, what answer will get me the best punishment.”

Arthur was transfixed as Merlin slowly let his lip pop free, blood rushing back in to turn it a rosy red.

“All,” Arthur swallowed, “all of them.”

“Well then, I confess. I did give him my locker combination.”

“Tease.”

“Guilty of that too.”

Merlin took a step back and whistled. His boyfriend knew how to fill out a suit. That it was no doubt criminally expensive probably helped but Merlin knew Arthur would look good in a trash bag. Arthur was wearing the most beautiful suit Merlin had ever seen, though that was more the man that filled it than the garment itself. The black cloth was elegantly cut, it’s shape emphasizing Arthur’s broad shoulders and powerful chest, the slim hips and long legs. The wide blue tie matched his eyes exactly, setting them off beautifully, the pocket square a perfect match. Merlin fingered the fine silk of the tie and leaned in to steal a kiss.  
Looking up, Merlin saw Morgana enter the ballroom on the arm of a man he didn’t recognise, an imposing man with a shaved head. Catching sight of her friends she extracted herself from her date, who raised a hand in an absent wave at the couple before making his way to the bar.

Morgana was radiant in an off-white, figure hugging gown that shimmered as she moved, her jet hair falling in shining waves. She gathered up the skirt of her dress a little and strode across the dance floor, uncaring of the dancers that had to avoid her.

“Merlin!” Morgana called out as she approached. “Look at you!”

Feeling his cheeks burn, Merlin ducked down and pressed a kiss to her cheek.

“You look gorgeous,” she praised, smoothing his tie down and ensuring it was centred in his collar.

“Thanks. You look stunning,” Merlin cleared his throat. “I ah, wanted to, you know, look nice.”

“For Arthur?” Morgana teased.

“Leave him alone Morgs.” Arthur chided. “I see you’re on the prowl. Couldn’t afford a dress with enough material to cover those?” Arthur gestured at the considerable cleavage Morgana had on display, dressing, as she often did, on the cusp of classy and too much.

“Why hide my light? And my breasts are fucking fabulous. I know it, you know it.”

“I’d rather not know, thanks.” Arthur grimaced.

“Well, if you’re going to be like that, then I’m going to steal away your exceedingly better half for a dance.” She turned to Merlin and took his hand. “Come  
along.”

Merlin gave in immediately; he was, he’d been horrified to discover since his arrival, utterly incapable of denying Morgana anything and he’d learnt it was best to just give in gracefully.

“What about-”

“Arthur has to go ‘announce’ the happy couple,” Arthur stated, leaning over to snaffle a mini mince pie, and cramming it into his mouth in one go, still chewing as he pressed a kiss to Merlin’s mouth. Merlin licked the crumbs from his lips with a smile.

“Off you go then.” He patted Arthur’s ass.

“Hmm,” Arthur swallowed and whipped a champagne flute off a tray of a passing waiter and gulped down its contents down, quietly burping when he was finished.

“Sexy.”

“Save a dance for me?”

Merlin looked taken aback. “You sure?” He asked.

“I think I can keep your flailing to a minimum and ensure no loss of limb or life.”

“I meant-”

“I know what you meant. I’m here with you. You’re my date, my Merlin. And I’m going to spend the evening with you.”

“And it really is a wonderful life, with the biggest goose and Santa is real down on 34th Street. And if I’d watched all those films in a marathon, it’d be less schmaltzy.” Morgana was rolling her eyes, though her smile gave her away.

“Jealous,” Arthur sneered, and swept Merlin into his arms, dipping the unsuspecting and protesting doctor and planting the showiest kiss on him he could, much to amusement of those nearby.

“Thank you for that,” Merlin complained, smoothing his jacket down. “Though I think what you meant to do was-” Merlin slid one arm around Arthur’s waist and down onto his ass while he sank the other into his hair, pulling him close as he took his mouth, tongue invading, slicking over his palette before retreating, biting at Arthur’s lips before letting go as quickly as he’d took hold, stepping back and extending one hand to Morgana.

“Shall we?”

“We shall.” As they walked around Arthur, Morgana reached out and slapped his ass. “Off you go, evil stepmother to announce, handsy father to ignore.”  
“Thanks for that.” Arthur muttered over Merlin’s chuckle.  
*** *** ***  
“So, what have you got him for Christmas?” asked Morgana, nimbly avoiding Merlin’s toe crushing foot, leading, though her partner didn’t know it.

“Nothing yet,” Merlin admitted, resisting the urge to watch his feet. “I mean, what can I get the penthouse owning, Mercedes driving-”

“Could wrap a bow around, uh,” Morgana glanced down at Merlin’s crotch, smirking at his blush.

“Um…no…don’t think I could pull that off-” Morgana’s laugh drew the attention of what felt like half the ballroom. “Not like that Morgana!”

“If you say so-ow!” Merlin didn’t even try to hide his grin as he lifted his foot. If Morgana was going to wear open-toed heels then he was going to take ruthless advantage.

“So sorry.” Morgana didn’t buy it for a second but he didn’t care. “Seriously, what do I get him?”

“I don’t know,” she answered honestly. “He adores you, you could give him a hug and he’d love it.”

“Great. Thanks. Wonderfully helpful.”  
The song changed, tempo increasing, the couples around them twirling across the dance floor. “Annnnd I’m bowing out. Drink? I’m guessing the royal couple  
will descend soon.”

“I wanna be drunk for that,” announced Morgana, leading the way to the bar, stepping up behind an unaware Gwaine, and blowing into his ear.

“Gah!” Spilt cocktail sloshed onto the floor. Turning to see who it was, Gwaine’s annoyed expression fell away in microsecond. “Finally,” he said, smiling at her, or at least her breasts. “You’ve been teasing me about how low your dress was gonna be and I am so glad you’re delivering.”

“Buy a girl a drink first?”  
“Aannnd I’ll just get my own.” Merlin waved beseechingly at a waiter. “Whatever you’ve got that’s strongest, mixed with whatever is next on the list.” The waiter looked a little weirded out but did grab a glass, and a couple bottles, filling a shaker before serving him something blue, and from how even the fumes made him dizzy, alcoholic.

“Ooh, curacao,” said Morgana. “Can you make me one too, please?” The waiter looked a hell of a lot happier to make the drink for her but then he never took her eyes off her cleavage either.

“How much have you lifted already?” Merlin asked, snapping his fingers in front of Gwaine’s face when he didn’t respond. “Hmmm?”

“How much you already snuck off with?”

“Oh,” Gwaine counted on his fingers for a second. “About two hundred quid? I’m hoping to beat last year.” He looked pleased at his current haul and took a slurp of his luminous pink cocktail, screwing up his face before nodding in apparent approval.

“You want my combination?” asked Morgana, sipping at her own drink.

“What makes you think I don’t have it?”

“A deep sense of hope?”

“You got a shrine to me in there?”

Morgana rolled her eyes, saved from having to respond by the dimming of the lights, the band putting down their instruments.  
Lust shot through Merlin at the sight of Arthur striding onto the dais, the spotlight glinting off his hair like a crown as he stood by the microphone. His boyfriend was gorgeous like this, commanding and strong as he smiled out at the crowd.

“Don’t worry, ladies and gentlemen, I’ll keep this brief.” Relieved laughter greeted his announcement.

"It's been a challenging year for us all at The Camelot, but I'm proud of what we accomplished together. The Camelot remains the top rated facility for providing excellent health services to all those that enter our doors.

“Thanks to the hard work of everyone in this room, through the dedication that runs from our Board members to our wonderful janitorial staff, we'll be going into the new year with strength, to build on our accomplishments, to continue to lead the field in cutting edge procedures and research.”

Arthur waited for the applause and whoops of appreciation from Gwaine to die down as the staff of The Camelot absorbed the appreciation of its golden Prince.

“This year, we also welcomed a new Board member, Ms Catrina Tregor who has brought to us the opportunity to take our work further, to spread our expertise, to aid not only the citizens of our own great country, but those around the globe. To that end we ask that you donate generously to the Doctor Exchange Programme, not just monetarily, but with your time and consideration.

“Now, please, join my father and the lovely Ms Tregor in a dance.”

As the spotlight on Arthur blacked out, one at the top of the stairs illuminated Catrina and Uther, hand in hand as they made their way to the dance floor, people clearing a path. The band began to play once more, Uther and Catrina dancing alone for a minute or so before Gaius led Alice onto the floor, his wife blushing to be in front of so many people but gamely keeping step.

It wasn’t until later, after his second plate of food, and after spending a few minutes bitching at having had to abandon his old one, Arthur shoved a mince pie into his mouth to ‘shut his pie hole’, that he caught sight of his uncle standing by the edge of the dance floor. Wondering at what so captured his uncle’s attention, he followed his line of sight. In the middle of the dance floor were Catrina and Agravaine, hand in hand. They weren’t dancing any closer than any other couple but something seemed…off. Seemed Gaius thought so as well, but before he could make his way across to his side, Arthur lifted the empty plate from his hand and led him onto the dance floor, nodding at the band leader who segued into a slow song and he gathered Merlin close, filling his arms with the man he loved.

“Pretty slick move, hotshot.”  
*** *** ***  
As Merlin stood in the freezing wind and waited for Arthur to come back with the car, snow fell softly around him, resting atop his shoulders and collecting on top of his shoes. He was watching Percy and Freya, the petite woman huddled within Percy’s long coat, the enormous man’s face buried in her hair as they whispered to each other, smiles plastered across their faces. Merlin wished his friends well; the two shy and gentle people were suited to each other well.

The roaring of Excalibur’s powerful engine brought him out of his musings as the car glid to a halt, a cab pulling up close behind, Percy stepping forward to open the door for Freya, offering his hand to aid her in. Reaching for the door-handle, Merlin called out a farewell to his friends and slid into the car.

“Got to love heated seats.”

Slipping the car into gear, Arthur pulled out into the traffic, heading home as fast as was safe.

“Good night?” He asked.

“Best night,” assured Merlin, beaming at Arthur.  
*** *** ***  
Arthur woke to sunlight, buttery soft and golden where it peeked through the gap in the curtains where Merlin had lazily tugged them closed the night before, too sex-stupid and tired to care, tipsier than he’d admit from the punch and cocktails at the party. Nobody could party like medics.

The scent of sex still lingered slightly in the air, the scent of them faint amongst the scents of winter; the promise of snow and bonfires, the herald of Christmas. Careful to not wake Merlin, he stretched his arms above his head, wincing at the crack from his shoulders, wiggling his toes as he relaxed, sprawling onto his side. Beneath the duvet it was warm and quiet, the buzz of a distant mower only intermittently breaking through, carried on the breeze that ruffled curtain.  
Arthur gazed at Merlin’s sleeping form. He seemed so vulnerable asleep, so breakable and delicate. His chest constricted at the thought of anyone hurting Merlin as Valiant had tried all those weeks, Christ months, ago. If he’d known such good fortune would come from nearly getting his face knocked in, he’d not have listened to his father when he’d ordered Arthur to avoid getting into fistfights at school.

He shuffled closer on their bed, insinuating one foot between Merlin’s chilled own. Merlin always slept with the window open, year round in spite of his utter lack of proper circulation. Morgana teased him that he liked what it did for his morning complexion, wanting to be pretty for Arthur and he’d smile and roll his eyes at her. Arthur had finally asked once, sure there was more to it than loving fresh air, even if Winter was Merlin’s favourite season. Somewhat shyly, Merlin had said that when he could hear the birds in the morning, before he opened his eyes, he felt back home, safe and secure in the small town he’d grown up in, rather than feeling overwhelmed by the large city he now inhabited.

Arthur nuzzled his face into the lax hands curled loose by Merlin’s chin; long fingers cool as he nudged his nose and cheek against knuckles and nails, lips pressing randomly to chilled skin. He loved these hands. How strong they were, how capable, how they held a pint. A pool-cue. Him. The confident yet gentle touches, that could turn so heated, that knew how to wring every drop of pleasure from his body. Long graceful fingers that would run over kiss swollen lips, encircle his dick, ease the way for Merlin’s cock.

Merlin shifted, drawing Arthur’s attention to his face, to the full lips that shaped loving and angry words, that stretched around smiles and Arthur’s cock. He loved that mouth, the endless smiles it bestowed and the pleasure it wrought on his body. He loved it even when Merlin was making jokes at his expense or yelling at him. He really did have it bad didn’t he?

Arthur groaned and rolled slowly away unable to ignore his bladder any more. When he got back from the toilet, Arthur moved over to the window, but rather than tug the curtain closed and clambering into bed, he drew it further back, stepping into the gap and looking out over the city.

 

It was a beautiful view, had been what had prompted him to pick the building in the first place but it was nothing compared to the study of shadows and light that lay asleep behind him but pleasant enough, and Arthur felt his shoulders relax at the contentment of having only to choose between those two views today; they’d both got the day off, a rarity they’d found.

Turning back, he’s surprised to see Merlin awake, sitting up gloriously nude, duvet thrown carelessly back. Arthur stares, almost unbearably fond, at the man of such ridiculous contrasts – lanky yet far from fragile, gentle but capable of such strength, ridiculous but intelligent and so fiercely loyal to those he cared for.

Merlin was blearily rubbing sleep from his eyes as Arthur stepped close, guilelessly spreading his thighs to allow Arthur to stand between his knees and press against all that sleep warm skin. Merlin hummed as Arthur’s hands sunk into his hair, scratching lightly as Merlin pressed a kiss to Arthur’s navel before turning his head to the side, carelessly brushing his stubble against the firm belly, delighting in the shiver it produced. Arthur’s pubic hair tickled against Merlin’s ear and his lax penis was soft against his neck. Even like this he loved to touch Arthur, sensual but not sexual, skin to skin, pressing close to feel heartbeats and breaths. Arthur was hit by how much he wanted just this, just like this every day. Merlin every day. With his habit of leaving used tea bags on the white counter tops when in a hurry, and his mismatched socks and his teasing and his beautiful face, just Merlin every day, here in his flat, or their flat.

They stayed like that for God only knew how long, just pressing close, Merlin’s arms wrapped loose around Arthur, hands clasped at the small of his back as Arthur ran his fingers through Merlin’s hair, down over those sculpted cheekbones and lower to his mouth, teasing full lips as Merlin mouthed without intent at his fingertips, pressing faint kisses to the pads.

“I’m hungry,” Merlin announced, breaking the silence but made no move to release his lover.

“Yeah?” Arthur chuckled, dropping his hands to Merlin’s shoulders, rubbing the sharp wings of shoulder blades and the bumps of his spine. “Me too. But if you want something, you’re going to have to let go.”

“No.” Merlin beseeched, tightening his arms, “stay here.” Beneath his ear, Arthur’s stomach rumbled and Merlin burst into laughter, his rough cheek and breath tickling against Arthur’s skin and as Arthur squirmed he only held tighter, throwing himself backwards to pull Arthur on top of him, legs hanging off the edge of the bed, twisting from under Arthur to not get squashed, fingers digging into Arthur’s sides to keep him laughing, the deep guffaws filling the room, Arthur’s face reddening as he fought to breathe, squirming and flailing to get away, Merlin fighting to struggle further onto the bed to straddle him but gravity had other ideas, and Arthur, Merlin, duvet and all slid off the mattress and onto the floor with a grunt.

*** ***  
It was so slick, Merlin was so slick inside now, wet with him. He couldn’t help himself from continuing to thrust, despite the shivers of too-much that came with it, couldn’t stop himself from humping back into his boyfriend, knees and feet scrabbling wildly for purchase on their bedding, feet locking over Merlin’s calves to keep him in place, knees shifting wider outside of Merlin’s own, thighs splayed wide across Merlin’s ass, as his hips pumped further, deeper into Merlin, into that wet, tight heat. Mounted as he was, he couldn’t get more than an inch or so of movement but it was enough, enough for his eyes to roll back and breath to stutter. When he’d started to come he’d pulled out to paint across Merlin’s ass and balls but from the moment the first pearly string had decorated that sex-pink skin he’d had to shove back into Merlin’s hole, delighting in Merlin’s pleasured whimper.

“Do you think you can do it, baby? He whispered into the pink shell of Merlin’s ear, lapping the sweat from his temple as he slipped his arms under Merlin’s trembling ones and wrapped large hands onto sweaty shoulders, tugging Merlin back onto his cock as he circled his hips pressing in, in, in, crazed at the feel of every inch of them pressed together . “You think you can keep me hard, get me off again, fill you again?”

“Get me off once and I might consider it, greedy prat,” Merlin bit out, almost growling at the feel of Arthur’s hand worming it’s way under his belly, rolling slightly to the side to ease its movement, hissing as it wrapped around his neglected cock, Arthur setting a blinding rhythm before easing off to cup his balls.  
“Nooo, Arthur,” whined Merlin, trying to shift his weight back again to trap Arthur’s hand where he wanted it, attempting to hump against the too soft duvet.

*** *** ***  
With the weather relatively mild for mid-December and the low sun glinting off the frozen dew like diamonds, Merlin got roped into playing the Saturday game.  
“Come on, “Arthur wheedled, “even you can’t be that bad and if you are,” he danced out of reach of Merlin’s punch, “you’ve got doctors and physios around. And even the others can dial 999 if needed.”

Arthur tucked the football under one arm, stepping closer to reel his lover in. “And if you do this for me, I’ll do something for you,” he purred into Merlin’s ear to feel him shudder.

“You mean…” Merlin breathed back, hand dropping to Arthur’s ass and gripping hard, fingers just pressing the seam of his joggers into his crack.

“Yup.”

“You mean…you’ll do the washing up?” Merlin let go and darted away, knowing Arthur would give chase and needing the head start. He only managed five seconds before he was tackled to the ground, Arthur grinding his hips into Merlin’s ass.

“That’s not playing fair,” Merlin pressed back, “definitely unsportsmanlike conduct.”

“I can be very sportsmanlike, I promise.”

“You two are as bad as Gwaine said.” Leon rolled the ball away from where it’d fallen by Merlin head, dribbling it between his feet. “He used to warn people about them,” he jerked his head in the direction of Lance and Gwen, the couple just arriving to the pitch hand-in-hand and deep in conversation. “I think you guys are worse. At least they’re cutesy. You’re just x-rated.”

Standing still he adjusted the cuff of his new prosthetic before bouncing on his toes to check it was comfortable.

“How’s the new one working for you?” Arthur asked as he rolled off and stood up, holding out a hand to help Merlin stand, using the opportunity to pat at Merlin’s ass under the pretext of brushing dirt from his trousers.

“Better, much better. The socket on the old one was so painful if I tried to do anything more than walk.” He hissed. “Really bad sores and blisters.” He shook his head and looked down at his leg. “However, this one is amazing and the impact absorption is brilliant.” He raised his eyebrows at Arthur and kicked the ball towards his feet. “Now, are we going to play?”

“But it’s bloody freezing!” Merlin complained, eyeing the frozen ground and not liking his chances of survival, totally bemused at how Leon was standing there in shorts. “Do you have anti-freeze in your blood?”

Gwen had brought some thermoses and camp stools for her and the other spectators that also subbed in when a player got tired or hurt or wanted a cup of tea. Or were Elena; she was like a Labrador puppy let loose in a ball pit, all mad enthusiasm and tireless fun, but no co-ordination, skill or concept of rules. As such she often had to sit out about four or five times in a game having caught a stray elbow or knee, or that one time she tripped over a dog. That hadn’t even been on the pitch. Freya preferred rugby but gamely gave her all, laughing riotously whenever one of the larger men simply lifted her up and moved her away from the ball before stealing it away.

Morgana slouched low in her chair; football wasn’t her favourite thing in the world but she enjoyed watching the guys running around in shorts and mocking how  
riled up they’d get about the outcome of the game as if the fate of the world hung on whether that play was a foul or not.  
That, and she and Gwen had a private bet on how many opportunities Arthur would take to ‘accidentally’ foul Merlin and thus get in a grope or two. At first he’d been pretty subtle; a pat on the ass as he passed, and working up to a slow grind, rubbing along Merlin’s body as he helped him up, leaning in for a kiss and turning away at just the last second to call out a play to his team.

As much as she’d deny it if Arthur was in hearing distance, she was delighting in Arthurs obvious happiness and Merlin was, despite his protestation at Arthur effectively humping his leg in front of all of their friends, relaxed and happy, sometimes retaliating by coping a feel. The last few weeks before they’d finally gotten it together, they’d both been tying themselves into knots with their stupidity.  
As she watched, Arthur scored, victoriously dancing in place as he threw his head back and laughed but before any of his team mates could reach him, Merlin leapt onto his back, arms tight around Arthur’s neck, gripping hard as Arthur ran along. As they went past, Merlin’s laughter was interspersed with ‘faster, faster,’ feet flailing as if spurring Arthur on.

“Did you just kick me?” Arthur asked before he stumbled, Merlin falling on top of him, Gwaine hollering of a war cry as he launched himself on top was matched only by Leon’s attempt. Lance appeared to think about it for a few seconds, shrugged and tumbled down into the pile. His kneeing Gwaine in the balls was probably accidental but with Lance, it was hard to tell; he could smile so beatifically and innocently that people often suspected he could get away with murder.  
Morgana heard Freya hiss in sympathy for Arthur lying at the bottom of that pile; there was no way he wasn’t getting smushed.

It was Lance’s, “Oh no,” that had Gwaine and Leon scrambling to get up and away, but Percy was faster than he looked, thundering down on the group before belly flopping down on top.  
**** **** **  
Arthur winced as he stretched, arms gripping the doorframe.

“Sore?” Merlin as enjoying the view of a shirtless Arthur, jeans pants slung low on his hips, displaying the ridges of his abdominal muscles, Merlin’s hands itching to touch.

“Yeah,”

“Lie down your Highness. On your front,” Merlin directed. Arthur raised an eyebrow but complied, shimmying out of his jeans and rolling onto his belly, long body stretching out like a cat before pillowing his head on his arms, shooting a provocative glance over his shoulder at Merlin, running his tongue over his top lip before sucking his bottom lip between his teeth and winking.

“You not gonna light some candles, play a little soft music?” Arthur’s words fell on deaf ears, Merlin focused on Arthur’s body, the expanse of warm skin and firm muscle.

“Gorgeous,” Merlin mumbled. He stroked his hand along the length of Arthur’s leg, running fingertips over the upturned sole of his foot, tickling the back of a sensitive knee to watch Arthur twitch and scratching along the back of his toned thigh. Arthur was practically purring by the time Merlin’s palm cupped one firm buttock jumping in shock at the unexpected slap.

_“Merlin!”_

Merlin didn’t reply, just slipped out of his own bottoms and climbed onto the bed, straddling Arthur’s hips to rest his weight evenly between his knees and Arthur’s ass, and began working at Arthur’s shoulders, strong fingers coaxing the muscles to relax, unrelenting as he kneaded limbs aching from the game and the puppy pile Arthur had ended up on the bottom of. The swell of biceps filled his palms as Merlin drank in the blissful moans his boyfriend let slip, the lack of oil and resulting friction heating the flesh beneath his hands as he stroked long, languid strokes along muscular arms.

During other massages Arthur had had, not that he’d let slip to Morgana that he ever indulged in anything more than sports massages, he’d felt heavy and sleepy as practised hands had smoothed over his skin. Even when the masseuse had moved lower to ass and thighs, he’d never felt like this, like his skin was on fire, like every touch of Merlin’s hands caused lightening to fire down his spine, shuddering as it earthed in his hips heat blooming, restless as he shifted to accommodate his growing arousal.

Merlin slowly worked up Arthur’s spine, starting with large sweeps up from those tempting buttocks, rubbing along each vertebrae with his thumbs, sliding his hands back down to cup that firm ass before starting again, pressing into the slim waist, smoothing up to the wings of shoulder blades and up to broad shoulders fingers caressing nape and hair.

It wasn’t until Arthur was about either roll over and just grab Merlin, or simply hump into the mattress to ease the ache in his cock that Merlin shuffled backwards, sitting on Arthur’s thighs heavily as he lingered at Arthur’s buttocks; something about the skin that was so much paler that the rest of Arthur’s body made him feel strangely tender and protective. This part of Arthur’s body that not even the sun saw was saved just for him.

Shifting backwards, Merlin gave into temptation, leaning forward, lowering his weight onto Arthur and slipped his cock between those cheeks and thrust.  
“I really had planned to give you a massage you know,” he muttered, “but you’re just too distracting.”

“This is good,” grunted Arthur, “endorphins, science…whatever. Natural painkiller.”

Arthur’s skin smelt of sunlight and cotton and the sweat he’d earned that afternoon, as Merlin buried his nose into soft hair as he thrust again, the lack of slick borderline uncomfortable but he unable to care or stop himself, but when Arthur struggled to turn himself over, Merlin levered himself up onto his hands and knees, impatient as Arthur turned over, ensuring he rubbed up against whatever of Merlin he could reach, teasing bastard that he was.

 

Merlin rammed his hand under the pillow and closed his fingers around the plastic tube that lay there, yanking it free. The snick of the lube cap flicking open was strangely loud in the and from the corner of his eye he could see Arthur tense.

“Give,” Arthur commanded, hand outstretched, palm up for Merlin to give him the tube.

“Nope,” Merlin grinned, slicking one hand before twisting behind him to drop the tube into the bedclothes far out of Arthur’s reach, not that the lazy git would actually get up himself if he thought he could order Merlin to do it for him.

With his clean hand he rubbed soothingly between Arthur’s pectorals thumb fanning out to flick against a pebbled nipple, fingers tugging lightly at the feathering of hair to stroke down over the ridges of toned stomach. Merlin leant forward and pressed teasing kisses all over Arthur’s face, dodging away from Arthur’s mouth when his boyfriend tried to capture his lips.

Sitting back up, he began to stroke faster, nearly being dislodged as Arthur heaved himself to sitting, stomach muscles straining as he clawed at Merlin’s back to pull him closer, succeeding in capturing his mouth, thrusting his tongue deep, retreating to nip at his lips before sucking at Merlin’s tongue. Sat up, he had less leverage to thrust, grinding his hips into Merlin’s with harsh circles, nosing along Merlin’s jaw to trace the ridges and valleys of Merlin’s ear, suckling the fleshy lobe, sucking it hard into the heat of Arthur’s mouth before biting down as he scratched his nails down Merlin’s spine.

“Lie down,” Arthur took great pleasure in the ragged tone of Merlin’s voice, his control and cool of earlier stripped away but grunted in protest as Merlin released their cocks, instead pressing hard into his chest, grinding his palms into the hard points of Arthur’s nipples as he forced him down onto his back.

“You’ll like this, I promise. I know you’re too sore for anything else.” Merlin gathered up both their cocks into his slick hand and began to stroke slowly but tight, adding a sharp twist at the head when Arthur started to strain against Merlin’s weight atop his lap, hips pumping to thrust up into Merlin’s fist, the friction sending shiver after shiver of pleasure up his spine, heat pooling in his groin.

Merlin reached back, scrabbling desperately in the duvet for the discarded lube, ignoring Arthur’s huff of amused irritation before triumphantly holding it aloft, flicking the lid and, in retribution, pouring the cool fluid directly onto Arthur’s cock, chuckling at Arthur’s shout of surprise, evading the hands that grabbed at the bottle, drizzling it lower onto Arthur’s balls, transfixed as he watched the liquid pool, beads trailing random lines down over Arthur’s blood hot skin, glimmering in the lamp light. He dropped the bottle, uncaring as it rolled form the bed and clunked onto the floor, no doubt continuing to flow from the container, pooling onto the floor.

Arthur reached for his hands, linking their fingers and tugged, pulling Merlin’s fully atop him, bending his legs, to plant his feet firmly on the bed, thrusting hard as he pressed their joined hands into the mattress beside his head. Merlin indulged him in a kiss, filthy and wet, tongue fucking into Arthur’s mouth as he thrust into Arthur’s hips

“Finally, a good idea. Knew you’d have one eventually if I waited long enough.”

 

Arthur growled his displeasure as Merlin rolled to the side, trying to use their still joined hands to pull him back where he was wanted.

“What the fuck, Merlin?” He groused, trying to follow when he couldn’t pull Merlin back on top of him, unsuccessful when Merlin pressed a knee between them and extricated his hands, shifting to hold Arthur down by the hips.

“ _Mer_ lin!”

“Turn over and close your legs,”

Arthur was shocked into stillness, though Merlin wasn’t fooled and didn’t let up the pressure on Arthur’s hips. “What?”

“God you’re perfect,” he murmured as he gazed down at Arthur’s body, it’s long limbs and heavy muscle, the beat of his heat obvious in the pulsing of his cock.

“Flattery would get you everywhere, idiot, if you weren’t stopping me from getting off! What the fuck?!”

“Turn over and close your legs.” Merlin repeated leaning down to run his tongue along Arthur’s neglected cock, sucking lightly along the prominent vein before pressing a wet kiss to the head, lapping up the pre-come pooling at the tip as Arthur’s hands came down to cradle his skull, hands running restlessly through his hair, slight pressure encouraging him to take more of the shaft into this mouth. Easily breaking the hold Merlin sat up again and playfully slapped Arthur’s hip.

“Need your hearing aid old man?” He needled.

“I’ll shove it up your ass if you don’t get back to-”

“Ah ah, you kinky sod.” Merlin hadn’t missed how Arthur’s face had fallen slack at the pressure of Merlin holding him down, how pre-come had spurted from his cock as he struggled. They had plenty to investigate later.

“Turn-”

“Oh for fucks sake,” Arthur snapped and heaved himself over, rolling his eyes and huffing like he was doing Merlin a favour, pressing his legs together. “Happy now?”

“Not as happy as I’m gonna be.”

“You did not just say that.” Arthur’s expression was appalled. “I’m fucking a man that actually just said that.”

Laughing as he clambered back on top of Arthur, Merlin pressed a kiss to the frown marring Arthur’s brow.

“Not yet you’re not,” he replied, waggling his own eyebrows as he sat back. “Nor will you be.” He shuffled back a bit, pressing a hand between his legs and spreading the slick down the inside of Arthur’s thighs, and up into his crack he was pleased to find the lube hadn’t gone tacky whilst Arthur had been his usual helpful self. He was less pleased to feel that Arthur’s erection had waned but rallied once he took it in hand.

“You either get me off, or I will get me off but somehow, sometime today I will, in fact, be getting off.”

The peal of laughter that was Merlin’s only response was clearly not the reaction he’d expected, though Merlin suspected that the only reason Arthur wasn’t more cross was because he was still fisting his cock, thumb flicking over the slit.

“It’s really hard to take a man seriously when he’s naked and his cock is in your hand,” Merlin explained. He spat in his hand and slicked his own cock, before moving to stretch out atop Arthur, balancing his weight on one hand by Arthur head, the other feeding his cock into the hot, slick space between Arthur’s thighs.

“Nghh.”

 

Splitting his legs wider over Arthur’s thighs, Merlin pressed forward harder, letting his weight sink down, trying to shove even closer, grinding down. Arthur’s eyes went wide as Merlin’s cock slid between his buttocks, grazing over his hole, and further forward, nudging against full balls, his groan of startled pleasure muffled by the pillow beneath his head before twisting uncomfortably to beg for Merlin’s mouth.

Merlin grinned into their kiss, rolling his hips again, pressing hard into Arthur’s hands to lever his upper body up a little, letting his weight sink onto his hips, curling his toes into the mattress to support him as he ground down as Arthur thrust up, hips stuttering.

It was so tight, to hot and wet, the moist slaps of skin on skin, his sac slapping into Arthur’s thighs, it was heaven.

“Fuck! Arthur!” His rhythm faltered as Arthur squeezed his legs together, crossing his ankles to tighten around Merlin’s dick, humping his hips back as much as his position under Merlin allowed, mere inches but enough to have Merlin’s eyes rolling back in his head, breath hitching out in little gasps as he praised Arthur for his amazing ideas.

Merlin can’t keep his eyes open but that’s okay, he wants to be able to take it all in. He needs to remember the feel of soft skin on hard muscle, of the way Arthur’s thighs are shaking beneath him, how it feels to trace along graceful sweeps of shoulder blade and how his hands feel made to grip Arthur’s hips carefully. He never wants to take this feeling for granted, that this amazing and beautiful man lets only Merlin touch him, share’s himself with Merlin only.

Merlin’s almost got his entire weight on him now, and he should feel trapped or needing to escape but he doesn’t. He doesn’t because it feels like Merlin is keeping him together, that he’d fly apart from the pleasure if Merlin took even an ounce of his weight off him. But he’s still desperate to kiss him, to slide his tongue into that beguiling mouth, to taste and swallow the cries and whimpers that spilt over red lips to be captured, safe within his own chest. He feels Merlin drop his forehead onto his back, hot puffs of breath washing over the sweaty skin, his own breath shallow and quick as Merlin’s cock head snags against his hole, to nudge, nudge, nudge against balls, a tease, enough to keep him feeling overheated, skin too tight, desperate for release but not nearly enough to send him over the edge.

“Come on,” he encouraged, as Merlin humped between his legs, sweat streaming into his eyes, shivering as he felt Merlin lap at his skin, moaning at the salt sweat, thrusts shallower and shallower, hips snapping forward, those sharp hipbones pressing into Arthur’s ass, the hairs at his groin crushed against Arthur’s skin.

“Please,” Merlin begged, rocking as his fingers scrabbled at the covers, slotting them between Arthur’s own to grasp him tight. “Please,” he pleaded nonsensically, pushing his weight onto his elbows by Arthur’s side. He felt his balls tightening, arousal stabbing into him almost painfully as he burned up, sweat prickling on his back. God, his cock was gonna be raw later, the lube drying, the slide no longer smooth but it was so worth it. He felt like he was drowning, needy sounds deep in his throat feeling like they travelled up his spine with the pleasure, rippling through him.

Arthur was desperate to reach under himself and grip his cock, but even if he could worm a hand under his prone body, he would be unable to break the grip Merlin had on his hands, knuckles white. He could see the strain in Merlin’s forearms, tendons and muscles standing proud, lean and strong as Merlin fucked between his legs, breath coming faster as Merlin finally came, crying out as he came, shaking and whimpering, teeth biting down on the flare of a shoulder blade as he painted Arthur’s balls and hole, collapsing down onto his lover, shuddering.

As soon as he could recover enough brainpower Merlin shouldered Arthur’s legs apart, staring transfixed at the drying lube and come he’d smeared between Arthur’s thighs and across his balls. Driven by raw need and lust Merlin lapped at the lube, desperate to get at the taste of Arthur beneath, to taste the mix of the two of them together.

“Merlin!” Arthur silenced as Merlin turned his head to bite at the tender flesh of his boyfriends thigh, sucking at the teeth marks to leave a bruise he lapped his tongue over again and again as Arthur shuddered and hissed, hips pumping hard into nothing, the muscles beneath Merlin’s hands bunching.

So he did it again, returning to his goal, tilting his head so he can graze his teeth around the rim, taking Arthur’s surprised shout as encouragement to continue, to do it again.

And again.

And with every swipe of tongue, every nip and graze and suck, Arthur moans, deep and breathy, offering up pleas for more.

“Up, knees,” Merlin insists, and grips Arthur’s hips so he can try to haul him to all fours. The moment his there, swaying precariously, Merlin dives back, sliding beneath Arthur, face up to lick his own come from Arthur’s balls, to suckle them into his mouth to weight them on his tongue, drawing the loose softness of the sac between his lips. He ran his hands up Arthur’s thighs, the rough golden hairs tickling against palms, stopping to press against the inside of Arthur’s knees , nudging the strong legs further apart, hands coming to rest on the back of Arthur’s knees and pushing, folding Arthur’s body back, barely aware of Arthur scrabbling blindly for a pillow and cramming it under his head and chest, grumbling in complaint as he reluctantly separated from Arthur’s skin to allow Arthur to adjust his position.

Merlin played his fingers around and around Arthur’s hole, rubbing and patting and scratching against the pucker, mouth releasing his sac to suck kisses into Arthur perineum as he struggled out from under his lover, rolling to the side to push himself onto his knees.

“Open yourself, hold yourself open for me.” Merlin nipped at sensitive skin when Arthur failed to comply quickly enough. In a flash Merlin was between his thighs, hands spreading those cheeks wider, leaving Arthur open to his gaze.

“Yes…”

And then Merlin, the bastard, backed off.

As Arthur’s protestation passed his lips, Merlin’s mouth returned, lips brushing against his hole, their warmth only surpassed by the heat of his tongue, its slick breach little more than a tease before Merlin withdrew again thrilling at the hitch of Arthur’s breath, pressing kisses up along Arthur’s cleft, hands grappling to tilt slim hips back, reaching to push between his shoulders to present his ass higher, curling his body to press kisses up the line of Arthur’s spine, sucking on the swells of vertebrae that he could reach before retreating, tongue tracing back to Arthur’s hole, zeroing in on the flesh, feeling Arthur’s hand groping at his head as Arthur began to rock his hips back onto Merlin’s tongue, working himself against his face, against his playful tongue whining as Merlin gripped his cock.

Arthur moaneed, piteous and desperate as Merlin pumped his dick rhythmically as possible with how Arthur’s hips were humping forward against his hold, trying to grind his cock into the mattress just for some release as Merlin returned his mouth to his ass.

As Merlin can feel Arthur’s orgasm build in the tightening in his balls, the shortening of his breath, the thoughtless thrusting and moaning almost constant, he didn’t let up for a moment, not letting Arthur catch his breath and undoes him completely by plunging his tongue inside.

Arthur yells out and jerks hard forward into Merlin’s tight fist, then back thrusts back into Merlin’s face and onto his tongue, coming in long, pulsing ribbons, spilling over Merlin’s fingers and onto the duvet, and Merlin tongue fucks him through it, burying his face between Arthur’s ass, licking and biting and sucking as he tried to twist his tongue as far into his boyfriend as he could, hand not letting up until he heard Arthur hiss, weight shifting as he tired to free an arm to bat Merlin’s away.

Even as he released Arthur, Merlin ran his tongue over and over Arthur’s slick hole, the loosened muscle accepting the invader easily as he ran greedy hands over thighs and ass, scoring his nails over pale buttocks as all tension flows from Arthur’s body, arms collapsing his upper body down, hips swaying as he began to slump to the side but he purred in pleasure as Merlin continued his attention, before finally succumbing to gravity and collapsing to the bed, separating Merlin from him, slap into the wet spot, but to blissed out to care.

“You like?” Merlin wiped his arm across his mouth, eyes still glued to Arthur’s ass, the pale skin pink and scored with red lines now, but still so precious and secret.  
“Excellent happy ending.”  
*** *** ***  
Morgana was absent from the group meet-up a few days later, the conversation turning, as conversations so often did at that time of year, to presents and plans, family and food and of course Gwaine singing the worst songs he could think of at the top of his lungs until Tom had just turned the jukebox up.  
Looking around for her, Merlin frowned. He thought she was down to work…maybe she had to work a little late; the nurse was incredibly dedicated to her patients, often staying late or arriving early when they were long-term or repeat patients.

“Wher-” Arthur shook his head at Merlin’s question, a promise in his eyes to tell him later.

*** *** ***  
“Morgana?”

When the door opened, at first Merlin didn’t recognise his friend; her eyes were red rimmed and puffy, tear tracks staining her cheeks, hair pulled into a rough plait and clothed in a baggy university hoody and jogging bottoms though she still stood strong and proud.

“Merlin,” she managed a weak smile. “Do you want to come in?” Her voice was rough and harsh from crying.

“I brought you some…uh…” Merlin held up an enormous slab of chocolate. “Lived off it when-”

“Come in.”

Merlin heard her tear into the packaging as she made her way back into the living room, popping a square into her mouth as she slumped down onto the sofa, snuggling down under the duvet that was crumpled up on it, flicking a corner of it over Merlin’s lap as well when he sat, offering over a row of Dairy Milk.  
The light from one room bathed the room in a soft glow, illuminating a bare tree sitting on a side table in the corner, a tiny shrub of a thing in a pot that Morgana no doubt planned to plant somewhere when the weather was more favourable for digging. Or, more likely, for making Arthur dig one.  
“  
Are you alright? Arthur told me why-”

“I’m never too well around this time of year. We put the tree up every year without fail, even when mum died. Always did it together,” she blinked rapidly refusing to cry, her eyes already burned as her gaze flicked to the miniature fir.

“It’s not just…” Morgana leant forward and stared into Merlin’s eyes, grasping his head in her hands, fingernails digging painfully into his skin and pulling him close. “Promise me, promise me Merlin, that this goes no further. Swear to me that-”

“I swear, I swear.” Merlin vowed, terror at what Morgana had to say making his blood run to ice. Not her, he couldn’t lose her too. They’d been friends only a few months, but she was so dear to him, he couldn’t bear to lose her to cancer too, or to a-

Tears began to well in his eyes as he panicked over what she was going to say, spilling warm onto his cheeks and onto her thumbs.

“Oh Merlin, no, no. It’s not me. I’m fine.”

“A patient of mine yesterday, he…” She shook her head and tried again. “His surgery failed, and that’s all we can do. That’s it.” Her voice grew louder. “All this technology and knowledge and skill and we’ve reached the end of the line.” She shook her head as Merlin went to say something, anything. “He’s entered palliative care but…I know what he plans to do. I can see it in his eyes. I know.”

“There’s nothing more that can be done?”

Morgana shook her head. “No…at least,” she sighed, “not medically.”

“You mean-”

She nodded gravely, just once.

“He said-?”

“I’ve seen what that does to the people that are left behind. I’ve lived what that does to the family left behind.”

Merlin scanned her face; was she saying what he thought?

“Morgana?” he whispered but her gaze was slightly over his shoulder, lost in her own memories.  It was some time before she spoke, voice low and gentle, sounding so impossibly young.  
 _  
“You ready for lunch, Da?”_

_When she received no answer Morgana poked her head into the front room, worried expression waning as she took in her father’s sleeping form, hands still clutching his book. She’d need to wake him in five minutes or so for his medication but he was so weak now that he probably needed the rest to be up to eating enough lunch that his tablets wouldn’t rip apart the sensitive lining of his stomach._

_Crossing the room on the balls of her bare feet, Morgana gently pried the book from her father’s cool hands, his grip reflexively tightening before he let it go and retrieved the bookmark she’d made him as a child from where it had fallen to the floor. Her father was so particular about his books; he’d be hell to be around for the rest of the night if he’d dropped it, wrinkled the cover or cracked the spine. Whilst she knelt by his side, she tucked his blanket more firmly around his legs._

_Her breath caught as she took in her father, his frail state so different to the vibrant superman of her youth. He’d always been full of life, no matter how hard he worked, face lighting up whenever he caught sight of his wife and daughter. He worked all hours of the day and night to give his family the life he never had, scrimping and saving to pay for the sort of education he’d never had; he wanted Morgana to make something of herself. To never have her believe anyone that said she couldn’t be whatever she wanted just because she was the daughter of a contractor._

_Gorlois had always been deeply tanned, working in the sun but his skin now was almost orange, the jaundice so severe, that when she went to cup his cheek the contrast of her pale hand against his skin was still such a shock._

_Morgana pulled her hair back, twisting the heavy mass of it up onto the top of her head, securing it with the clip she’d fastened to her tee-shirt’s hem. She couldn’t remember the last time that she’d styled her hair properly, the last time she’d had the time or the need. Her father was more important than keeping hair appointments or the sporadic dates she was asked on._

_With a kiss to the top of her father’s head, to that thinning patch she teased him about that would never have the opportunity to become a bald spot, Morgana moved back into the kitchen, swearing sharply at how high she’d left the stovetop under the soup._

_“Shit,” Morgana dropped the spoon that’d been resting against the side of the pan that she’d intended to stir the soup with. “Fucking ow.” Jerking the knob to cut the heat, Morgana ran her hand under the cold tap until she swore she could hear her jaw creaking under the strain of gritting her teeth against the pain.  
“I heard that.” Of course he did, he always had heard when someone swore in the house, always inflicting some teasing penalty or other._

_“Quiet you. You heard nothing.” Gorlois’ laughter was no the longer booming guffaws they had been but it still made Morgana smile to hear it, before her eyes filled with tears at the thought ‘what if this is the last time I hear it?’._

_Do you want orange juice or prune?” She called as she tugged open the fridge._

_“Do we have any of the mango and orange?” was the unhelpful reply. Morgana rolled her eyes, muttering ‘if we did, Da, I’d have said wouldn’t I?’_

_“Nope, sorry. I can get some more tomorrow, though if you want.”_

_“Orange then,” Filling a tall glass, Morgana reached for the numerous medication bottles on the countertop and shook out the right number of each. God there were so many, the only things standing between her and losing her father; a mismatched fistful of colourful pills that were doing less and less. After the failed surgeries, round after relentless round of chemotherapy, and radiation, it was all down to these. And her father’s strength._

_Neither would last long._

_Blinking away the heat of tears, she resolutely took up the little teaspoon she’d used the last three years to crush the pills and reduced them to powder, swirling them into the sweet juice, masking the foul taste._

_Ladling a serving of soup into a plastic bowl, she arranged lunch along with a spoon onto her father’s special tray and carried it into the front room, setting it onto the table beside her father. Even with the light plastic construction of the tray and crockery combined with the carry handle that Gorlois could hold with both hands to lift the tray to his lap, Morgana knew it was still a struggle for him. But he could still do it and so he was determined to do it himself. Because of the difficulty he had, and his pride, Morgana always returned to the kitchen to collect her own tray, giving her father privacy to make his attempt. It was an unspoken agreement that if the tray remained on the side table when she returned, that he was unable to lift it that afternoon, and Morgana, without a word, would place it on his lap as she went past to turn the television on._

_Gorlois had developed a morbid fascination with some American soap on Channel Five, riveted by the atrocious acting and inexplicable plots. He claimed, laughingly, that it was keeping his mind active, trying to fathom out the sense of what was going on. The pair would sit and while away half an hour as they ate lunch together, mocking the new episodes events, creating their own bizarre storylines, mimicking the appalling attempts the actors made at foreign accents, especially British ones. If Morgana kept her eyes on the screen, listening to her father’s laughter and sharp wit, she could forget, for half an hour a day, that her father was dying. It made the other twenty three and a half hours almost bearable._

_Her mother’s death had hit him hard; the suddenness of it so cruel, so un-fightable but strokes could be like that. One minute she’d been talking to her a friend over tea, then she’d started to slur a little and by the time her friend realised what was happening, it was too late. She’d been announced DOA and that had been that. Twenty years her parent’s had been married, so in love, still so desperately in love. She couldn’t imagine the pain of losing half her heart, her soul. She could barely stand the loss of her mother, she didn’t know how her father was even able to breathe. Morgana had begun to panic when her father was out of her sight, crawling into bed with him at night to listen to his heartbeat, the raucous snoring that meant he was still alive, that she wasn’t alone in a world that seemed starkly terrifying. Often he hadn’t been in his bed, causing her to tear down the stairs as if pursued by Death himself, stopping dead at the sight of him slumped asleep on the sofa, flickering light of night-time reruns illuminating the room._

_Unlike her mother, he’d had the chance to fight, and he’d given it everything he had, every second he got the chance to cheat death. But now he was losing the fight, and worse, the will to fight. He was so tired, she could see it every day. Just last week, when she’d had to call in a roofer to fix some damaged shingles, she’d seen the tears that stained his cheeks and shook his shoulders. He’d built that roof, built the entire second storey to their little home, and any other job that needed doing had been done by his hand, but now he couldn’t get out of his wheelchair, barely lift a paperback let alone wield a hammer and traverse a roof. She knew he felt useless, weak, deeply ashamed. And there was nothing she could do, or say to convince him otherwise; trying would only draw attention and he clearly wanted none of that, so she went upstairs, resolutely not weeping herself at the sound of an unfamiliar hammer upon the roof, eyes closed as she wrapped her arms around her middle, wishing she had someone to hold her, glad she had nobody to see her in her weak moments._

_Morgana knew what her father wanted to do. What he planned. The question was whether she could be strong enough to do what he needed of her. Could she love him enough to be utterly selfless and give him what he needed? She could not bear to see him suffering, it broke her heart, but could she bear to let him go, to help him go?_

_He was all she had. After her mother’s death, they’d been a little family of two, and they’d been enough . She had no uncles, no aunts. She would be alone, adrift. What would she do?_

_Gorlois fell asleep again almost the moment the credits began to roll and while he slept, Arthur arrived with a Christmas tree strapped to the roof of his car. She wanted to decorate for her father. He’d always taken her with him to pick a tree even when she’d been only months old bundled up in a little baby sized snowsuit to keep her warm, chubby hands waving with glee at the shiny lights and music blaring from every shop, and they’d decorated it together, mismatched ornaments a mixture of heirlooms and terrible art projects of Morgana’s from her childhood alongside beautiful creations of her mother. Each one had a story, a sense of family and love. Every year Gorlois would lift Morgana to put the star on the tree._

_It was time for her to get used to doing this alone._

_The pair bullied the tree in through the front door and into the living room relatively quietly, Arthur holding it upright in the corner while Morgana found the stand. There were a few dodgy moments when they were sure they’d woken Gorlois but it seemed that the entire cavalry could have trooped through the room and he’d have slept through. Arthur wanted to stay and help her decorate but she was firm. This was something for her to do alone._

_An hour later, just as her father began to stir, Morgana crawled out from behind the tree, trailing the plug for the lights behind her, brushing dust off the knees of her jeans. When she noticed he was awake, Morgana fetched him over, pushing the chair to within reach of the wires._

_“That looks bonny, Morggie. Are you going to do the lights?” Gorlois asked, trying to crane round the look at his daughter. Morgana locked the wheels in place before letting go of the chairs handles and picked up the extension and light cords before laying them on his lap, leaving him the honours, staring intently at the Gorlois and not the tree, wanting just one more time to see her father light up the tree._

“So you-?”

“Sometimes you have to do what’s right and damn the consequences." Morgana lips twitched into something resembling a smile as she echoed her father's motto.  Words to live and die by.

“You're the only person I've told about this, about my father.”

“You can trust me.” Merlin assured her. “If I had been in a position to end Will’s suff-” the old pain flared again. It never went away; the wound healed over, scar tissue developed and you carried on, but the wound festered beneath, and every time he thought of those last months of Will’s life, of knowing the body they buried had stopped being Will long before he’d died, that wound was lanced, the infection flowing free again. Swallowing hard once, twice, he nodded. “You can trust me.”

“I know,” the hoarse exhale that came out was a sob barely concealed. Merlin reached out for her, arm curling around her shoulder to draw her close to his chest, laying his head down upon hers as he felt her tears soak into his shirt, tucking the duvet tight around them both. Merlin buried his face in her hair, the silken strands smelling of jasmine, reminding him so gently of his mother, of how she’d held him for what felt like days when Will died. After he’d stopped screaming, after the tears could no longer come, she had wrapped him in her arms, her skin pressed to his, rocking him like a baby as she talked to him until her voice too gave out. He’d clung to her, the only person he felt he still had left, terrified that the cruel world he now lived in would take her too.

Who had held Morgana? Who had dried her tears? Brought her tea? Merlin’s heart ached for the young woman she’d been, alone and in mourning, carrying such a secret on those slim shoulders. He squeezed her tighter, wanting to protect her from hurts long conquered.

Nobody, let alone a nineteen year old girl, should have to make the decision to help aid a parent to their death.

“It’s okay. It’s alright,” he said roughly, “it was the right thing to do. It’s alright, you did the right thing.” He let his eyes slide closed, chest tight as his heart bled for his friend, rocking her gently as she grieved. “It’s okay.”  
*** *** ***  
Just as Merlin was about to step out of the locker room into sweet freedom, someone grabbed his arm and pulled him to a stop. Grumpy and tired, he really wasn’t in the mood. Until he saw who it was and heard what Freya had to say, though his laughter seemed to come as a surprise to her.

When Arthur didn’t answer the bell to let Merlin into the building, he went around the corner and knocked on the glass, startling the concierge Mr Knight, who, after picking up his magazine, waved Merlin back to the door and let him in.

“Hey Merlin,” he called.

“Thanks, Arthur didn’t answer. Is he in?”

Knight whistled and fought a grin. “Oh yeah, Mr Pendragon is definitely in. He came rushing in here about an hour ago.”

“I’m alright to go up?” Merlin gestured over his shoulder with his thumb towards the penthouse lift.

“Sure.”

“Thanks.”

Arriving at Arthur’s flat, Merlin headed straight to the kitchen, divesting himself of his scarf and coat, tossing them from the hallway onto the armchair in the living room and leant against the doorframe to watch as Arthur stood staring at a whole raw chicken as if it had insulted him, ignoring a smoking pot. Approaching it cautiously Arthur grasped the legs and splayed them wide, lip curling in faint disgust, frowning in confusion. Dropping one leg he grabbed a whole lemon and abortedly tried to shove it into the cavity.

“Freya told me that Morgana told her that Gwen said you’re cooking?”

Arthur whirled around, lemon going flying across the room to bounce against the window. At Merlin’s obvious amusement he scowled.

“Oh Merlin, thank God!” Arthur un-tucked a kitchen towel from his jean’s waistband and threw it at the counter. “I need you to go down to Waitrose and get two of their biggest roast chickens.”

As the smoke alarm began to wail Merlin took in the state of the kitchen; a pile of bowls and pots filled the sink, unpeeled potatoes lay in a heap along with fresh podded peas, the tops of leeks protruded from a plastic bag on the floor by the oven.

“So, you’re not cooking?”

Arthur looked up from brushing himself down. “Well clearly, you’ll be doing the vegetables,” he answered as if it were obvious.

“So _I’ll_ be doing the cooking?” Merlin grabbed a cookbook off the side and walked to the window, opening it before standing beneath the alarm and furiously waved the smoke away from the sensor to quiet it’s siren.

“So I’ll be going to Waitrose, and peeling those and podding those and cutting those and is there anything else M’lord?”

Arthur narrowed his eyes and stepped close. “You’re not going to go are you?”

“Nooo,” Merlin drawled, slowly shaking his head as he hopped up onto the countertop, pushing potatoes and peas to the side for space.

Arthur ran his hands through his hair, looking distinctly like when Merlin mussed it after sex. Reaching out, Merlin caught a hold of Arthur shirt, hooking his fingers against the seam and pilling his boyfriend towards him, splitting his thighs wide to allow Arthur to step between, bracketing his hips with his knees and sliding his arms around his neck to steal a kiss. And a second. And a third. He dropped his hands down Arthur’s side to slide them into his back pockets.

“Hmmm.” Arthur nuzzled at Merlin’s jaw. “Please?”

“Nooo.”

Arthur kissed his way back to Merlin’s lips, rasping his lips against the stubble of unshaven jaw, lapping at the corner of his lips before slipping his tongue past them to play with Merlin’s tongue.

“Please, Merlin? Pretty please?”

“The hand that pressed into Merlin’s crotch was distinctly unfair. It took everything he had to pull away, scooting further back as Arthur’s hand tried to follow.

“No you don’t, Pendragon.” He pushed Arthur away and patted the wallet in his front pocket, so achingly close to where he could see Arthur’s hardening cock press against the fabric.

“ _You_ can go to Waitrose. And when you get back you can start peeling those,” he pointed at the potatoes.  
Looking unimpressed, at being thwarted and ordered around both, Arthur enquired, “And what will you be doing?”

“Figuring out what else needs doing.” Merlin nudged with his feet to urge him backwards and hopped down into his arms. “You can get some carrots too. And broccoli. Oh and bacon.” At Arthur’s look of disbelief at the amount of food Merlin seemed to consider necessary, Merlin reminded him that Gwaine would be coming. Merlin leant back into the palm that spread across his ass, pressed a kiss to Arthur’s lips and stepped away to check out the contents of the fridge.

“You have any redcurrant jelly?” He asked, rummaging around the back, hoping to find a jar.

“What?” Arthur sounded scandalized.

“Of course not. I’m in love with a posh git. Well you can get a jar of that too.” Merlin continued rifling through the crisper drawer, innocent of how his boyfriend stood in shock behind him, the lax jaw and wide eyes.

“Forget the bacon,” Merlin cried triumphantly, waving the packet over his shoulder before slapping it onto the counter. “You want roast potatoes too or just mash? You’ve got oil right?” He turned around and bumped straight into Arthur’s chest, the blond staring intently at him.

“You should be making a list you know.”

“Love?” Arthur sounded like a lost child, hopeful and disbelieving and terrified, clutching at Merlin’s chilled hands.

Merlin’s smile was wide, eyes little more than slits as he slipped his hands into Arthur’s hair, thumbs rubbing at his temples.

“You prat.” His voice was light, gentle. “You hadn’t figured that out?” He kissed Arthur sweetly, eyes open.

“I love you, Arthur Pendragon.”

Arthur huffed laugh and the way his eyes slid away from Merlin, twin blooms of pink high on his cheeks making him look shy. However the way he tugged him close was anything but, mouth pressed to Merlin’s ear.

“I love you. You’re interfering and idiotic and stupidly brave but I love you.” He lowered his head to Merlin’s shoulder, nosing at warm skin, kissing what of a slim collarbone he could reach under the bulky sweater Merlin wore to stave off the winter cold.  
Inhaling deep, Merlin closed his eyes and pressed kiss after kiss into Arthur’s hair. As Arthur’s grip loosened, Merlin released him, playfully pushing him away and towards the door.

“And you need gravy powder.”  
** *** ***  
A week before Christmas, Merlin went look for Lance to discuss the plans for Christmas day; Gwaine Hunith and Merlin were going to spend Christmas morning and afternoon with Gaius at their flat before they all then went to Gwen and Lance’s for the evening with their family. Morgana hadn’t been lying when she’d said that Lance worked in an office situated within the bowels of the hospital; as Merlin walked along corridor after corridor and turned corner after corner he was definitely totally lost and it wasn’t even as if he could stop and ask directions.

“You are sure he trusts you?” Merlin stopped dead at the voice; it seemed so familiar to him.

“Oh yes.” If the man’s voice was familiar, then his companion’s was more so.

“He’s like putty in my hands, just like all the rest.” Gaius had been right. There was something fishy about Catrina Tregor. Which meant the man with her was Agravaine DuBois.

“He’s so happy to see me again that he doesn’t question anything I do.” Catrina’s victorious chuckle was so different to lyrical laugh Merlin had heard before.  
“And he’s so willing to do all I ask.”

“Even signing over his money?” Merlin inched closer to the utility closet the voices were coming from; his patient had been right- closets were the chosen place for dangerous assignations and plotting.

“He’ll be giving me, or rather giving the Tregor Trust full access to his accounts in good time. After the wedding I will enquire over his Will. The Camelot shall be yours and the riches mine.”

“It all goes to Arthur,” Agravaine snarled. “The little bastard gets everything.” Merlin frowned. He hadn’t seen much interaction between uncle and nephew but Arthur always spoke highly and fondly of his last maternal relative. And Agravaine loved Arthur. Didn’t he? Peering around the door, carefully keeping out of sight, Merlin’s breath caught. The pair were wrapped together like lovers, Catrina’s dress unzipped, Agravaine shirt gaping open as they kissed.  
Catrina drew back, licking teasingly at Agravaine’s lips as he tried to follow.

“Give me time, darling. Uther’s method of raising the boy was quite useful to us; he trusts family above all others. And soon, I shall be family. Seeing his father happy where he has not made him so, the first nail in the coffin.”

“He’ll do exactly what he’s told. And Christmas?” Agravaine asked, pushing Catrina’s hair away from her neck to press kisses along her throat. “The plans for the wedding?”

“Moving along. In a few weeks we shall be wed, and I shall begin hinting at changing his Will, making me his next of kin. After we are married I shall have him replace me as heir to the Pendragon fortune. With Arthur away, disappeared in the programme we shall drive him into, it will all fall to me.”  
Merlin ducked back out of the doorway at the wet sound of kisses, frozen to the spot, almost sure he couldn’t possibly have heard what he had given how loud his heartbeat was pounding in his ears, the rasp of breath in his lungs. Could they hear him? What would they do?

*** *** ***  
“You were right,” Merlin banged into Gaius’ office, door slamming into the wall and bouncing closed again. Not wilting under Gaius’ disapproving glare, he strode to the desk and leant over it, hands on the blotter, panting hard from his run.

“I saw-you were-Catrina-plotting-kill Arthur.”

“Sit down, Merlin and take a breath. What on earth are you going on about?”

Merlin planted his ass on Gaius’ desk, landing on the keyboard, ignoring the chime of protest from the computer until Gaius pushed him aside.

“I was down in the basement,” he took a panting breath, willing away the flashing sparks in his vision. “Looking for Lance, and I heard voices.” Gaius raised an eyebrow but wisely didn’t comment. “Catrina and Agravaine. They’re after the money and the hospital.” Gaius’ other eyebrow rose as he leant forward. “They want to drive Arthur away…replace him.”

“You’re sure?” Gaius asked, though one look at his nephew gave him his answer.

“I’m sure.”

“Did they see you?” Fear shot through Merlin at the idea; clearly Agravaine and Catrina had no problem with erasing from their path anyone that got in their way.

“No.” He shook his head. “No, I don’t think so.”

“We’re going to need proof. Right now it’s your word against theirs. We are going to need something concrete we can present to Uther, the Board, and if necessary, the police.”

Merlin’s eyes widened at the implication. “Shit. They’re accessories to murder aren’t they?” He’d gotten so caught up in his worry about what might happen to Arthur, that he’d blanked out what had already happened to Jonas.

“If they don’t know we know then they don’t know that we’re looking for evidence or proof or whatever we can get our hands on.”  
“Let's hope you're right.”

“You need to speak to Arthur.” And how great was that conversation going to be? What was he going to say _‘Honey, your uncle and future stepmother want you dead. Hey let’s get lunch,’?_ If he was going to have to have a really uncomfortable conversation then Gaius had better have to as well. Uther was his best friend right?

“What are you going to do?” Gaius’ eyebrow rose at the indignant tone, just a hint of a childish whine creeping into Merlin’s voice.

“I’m going to speak to someone else.”  
*** **** ***  
Merlin had no idea how to broach the subject with Arthur. How exactly did one tell one’s boyfriend that his future step-mother and the uncle he idolised were plotting to take over the place he considered home, to ruin his father and potentially set up his death? Was that the sort of conversation that required a home cooked meal or take out?

He’d have to start with Catrina; surely Arthur would be more likely to respond to concerns over the woman his father was set to marry after two months, than he would to any aspersions against his uncle.

At his uncle’s exasperated huff, Merlin left Gaius’ office dragging his feet as he went, mind churning over what he’d seen and heard, over the expressions on the couple’s faces, the obvious pleasure they took not only from each other, but in their plan.

Slowly Merlin tripped his way down the stairs, steps heavy and reluctant. He knew where Arthur would be, his morning break almost always spent with a newspaper and coffee in the staff room, fifteen minutes of peace and quiet before he returned to the commotion of the A&E.

It took everything he had to turn the handle on the door and open it. Dotted around the room was a number of other staff, a couple nurses talking on the sofa, a cluster of physiotherapists around the microwave doing God alone knew what from their fervent whispering and stifled chortling. Arthur was sat at a small table, steaming coffee on the table, newspaper in hand.

Grimacing, Merlin blew out a heavy sigh as he crossed to the table, standing beside Arthur’s chair. Now or never.

“Umm, Arthur? I'm going to tell you something. It's not going to be easy for me to say or for you to hear.”

“Right.” Arthur didn’t even look up from his newspaper, his blond hair all that was visible behind the broadsheet.

“It, uh, concerns Catrina.”

“Look, I understand she’s attractive but I really don’t wanna hear it if you think she’s hot.”

“What?! God, no. Arthur, no.” Merlin scowled at his boyfriend, stepping back. “Oh, no. Trust me, but no. Gay, to the core,” he assured Arthur.

“I'm sure you are.” Arthur waggled his eyebrows as messily folded up his paper and stood up into Merlin’s space, leaning down to steal a kiss, hands sneaking down the back of baggy scrubs.

“Arthur. She's, she’s sort of a troll.”

“Huh. You really meant it when you said you didn’t find her attractive. She's not that bad.”

“I’m not-” Merlin’s voice rose from frustration, drawing the attention of the nurses on the sofa. He smiled and waved slightly, stepping closer to Arthur. Quietly, almost hissing the words, Merlin tried again. “Take me seriously for one second would you? She is up to something. She's an actual gold-digging troll.”

“Merlin, I know what you're trying to do, really,” Arthur’s smile turned slightly saddened, as though he were disappointed in Merlin though he appeared to be appeased and he stepped back from his boyfriend. “I appreciate it. I love you for it. But it's not about whether I like her or not, it's about what makes my father happy. And I guess today I got it, I realised that Catrina does just that. She makes him happy,” he placated; borderline condescending which only annoyed Merlin more. Could Arthur, just for once, not be himself and just listen?

“And when she steals all his money? Will he be so happy then?”

Arthur’s face fell, expression irritated, and Merlin recognised the signs that he was soon going to grow angry. Arthur’s voice was cold and hard when he ordered, “That's enough, Merlin.”

“But...”

“She’s my future step-mother and that’s the end of it. So you better get used to it. Apparently we’re to start having family dinners. And I’m not suffering through that gag-fest on my own. You should see what she eats, bleah. And it starts tonight so you and I are going to dinner with them and you,” he jabbed Merlin in the chest, hard, “are going to be charming and polite throughout. Do you understand?” Arthur’s tone brooked no defiance, and Merlin could only nod.  
“So having ruined my break, you can get me a croissant from the coffee cart in apology.”

Heart heavy, limbs leaden with failure and disappointment, in himself and Arthur, Merlin tugged his wallet from his pocket and went to do as Arthur asked, surprised when he was tugged back to Arthur’s side, a sweet kiss pressed to his lips, forgiveness issued, asked for in return. Merlin could do nothing but kiss back, desperately clutching to Arthur’s arms.

He would have to try again. Later.  
**** **** ****  
“Doctor Gaius?” Morgana was surprised to see the oncologist on her doorstep. They’d remained friendly after her father’s death, the man having fought tooth and nail for Gorlois, doing everything he could, and even trying techniques that were still in the trial stages.

“My dear, I really need to speak with you.” He sounded so very grave that she instantly stepped aside, ushering him inside with speed. “Is everything alright? Is Merlin alright?”

“I can only hope. But I think we’ll need your help.” Seemingly oblivious to her fear, Gaius moved into her kitchen, filling the kettle and fetching two mugs.

“Tea?”  
**** ****  
“All she’s after is the money!”

“Not this again, Merlin.” Arthur scowled, handing the parking ticket to the waiting valet, adjusting his coat and scarf.

“I heard her Arthur- she and Agravaine were discuss-”

“You heard her?” Arthur hands dropped away from his throat. “What do you mean you ‘heard her’?”

Taking a deep breath, Merlin bit his lower lip, mulled over how to describe what he heard; it was different telling Arthur than Gaius.

“I was looking for Lance’s office, you know, half a mile under the ground and I heard her and Agravaine, they were talking about The Camelot and Uther and his  
Will…” He didn’t think bringing up their joint disdain for Arthur would be useful at this juncture.

“Why? She’s already rich, why would she want to get my father’s money?” Arthur’s interest in this conversation, virtually nil twelve hours ago, had dropped to zero now. He’d found Merlin’s earnest attempts at discrediting Catrina cute earlier, now it was just ridiculous and he could find himself growing angry.

“I don’t-she-…you can never be too rich,” stuttered Merlin; he really should have insisted that Gaius talk through a strategy on how to approach Arthur on this. Or maybe done it for him. Surely Arthur was more likely to listen to Gaius on this issue than him.

“And my uncle? Why would he do anything to me?” Arthur’s expression was cold, voice flat

“He hates your father and he ha…” Merlin opened his mouth but the words couldn’t come, he couldn’t tell Arthur what he had heard Agravaine say. Arthur knew his own father and Agravaine didn’t get along but his own devotion to his last surviving maternal relative was absolute. Merlin needed to choose his words so very carefully.

“She wants to…” Merlin sought for the right words, the right way to express what he’d heard, “replace you as Uther’s heir-”

“You’ve watched too many Disney movies.” Merlin could see Arthur starting to get truly mad, knowing he’d never get him to listen once he was determined not to do so. “Just stop, Merlin. Please just stop” Arthur’s hands clenched around Merlin’s biceps, squeezing hard Merlin fighting to supress his wince. “Let’s not ruin a nice meal with this nonsense.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, hands coming up to close around Arthur’s forearms, stroking along the cashmere of his coat to quell his anger as his boyfriend glowered mulishly at him.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated, straining forward against Arthur’s hold to press a kiss to Arthur’s jaw. “I’m sure you’re right and I just misunderstood something.”

“That’s what happens when you eavesdrop, you misunderstand stuff,” admonished Arthur, his grip loosening, using it to tug Merlin against his side, dropping his hand to tangle their fingers together, tutting at the cold of Merlin’s hand, his idiotic boyfriend once more forgetting his gloves.

“It’s not about whether I like her or not, Merlin. It’s about what makes my father happy. And that’s Catrina.” _‘Not when he finds out she’s a gold digging monster,’_ thought Merlin but pressed a kiss to Arthur’s mouth silently.

Arthur let himself be swayed, turning his head to kiss Merlin’s mouth. “And speaking of a nice meal, do you want Indian or Chinese? Not enough food in those four courses to feed a bird.” Merlin stiffened, just waiting for Arthur to notice the pun-

“Haha,” The valet that was walking around Excalibur’s hood to present the keys to Arthur startled, slipping on a patch of compacted snow. “Bird and you’re a Merlin.”

Rolling his eyes, Merlin cuffed the back of his boyfriends head, handing a tip to the valet with his other hand.

“Yeah, yeah, funny guy. Get in the damn car. Home, Jeeves.”

Unseen, Agravaine pulled his mobile from his jacket pocket and sent a hasty text message to Catrina.

_'The boy, Merlin, he suspects.'_

_  
'Do not concern yourself, we can resist him easily enough.'_

_'But there's no telling what he'll do. Arthur loves him, he will listen eventually. He could ruin everything!'_

_'Then we simply cannot allow that to happen.'_

_'What would you have me do?'_

_'I think it's time we set a trap'_  
*** *** ***  
“Ahh, Doctor Emrys, just the man I was looking for.” Catrina swept into Bay Three seconds after Merlin’s patient limped out, looking every inch out of place from her coiffed hair to her spiked heels.

“Ms Tregor-”

“Oh, Catrina, please,” she purred, closing the door behind her, “after all, we’re practically family. I see how much Arthur loves you.” Stepping forward she grinned. “And I need your help.”

Surprised, Merlin finished scribbling down his notes and closed the file in his hands and tucked it under his arm. “If there’s anything I can do, I’m happy to help.”

Surely getting Catrina on side would only help in finding the proof that Gaius needed.

“Well, it’s about a Christmas present. We’re only six days away from Christmas and I haven’t a clue what to get Uther.” Catrina looked quite genuinely distraught at the idea and Merlin knew that had he not seen her yesterday that he would have easily fallen for it, wouldn’t have questioned the earnest expression and the slight vulnerable quiver to her voice.

“Or Arthur for that matter,” continued Catrina, stepping closer as her voice dropped, as if they were sharing a secret.

“What do you get the men that have everything, right?” Merlin joked, moving away only for his retreat to be blocked by the exam bed, tripping onto it before he could right himself. His own present for Arthur sat in a box under his bed along with all the other presents he’d managed to buy; online shopping was a Godsend for someone with his work schedule.

“Exactly.” Merlin felt nothing more than a butterfly pinned beneath glass as Catrina continued to come at him. “What’s a girl to do?”

“Well,” said Merlin desperately as he tried to navigate the bed backwards without taking his eyes off the woman before him. “You are giving him your heart for the rest of your lives,” _‘no matter how short Uther’s might turn out to be,’_ “that might be enough.” Merlin forced a laugh though it barely made it past his lips and sounded flat.

“You’re a romantic.” Catrina sounded oddly pleased. “But,” she continued, “it’s just not quite enough.” She was toe to toe with Merlin by the time she stopped approaching, Merlin inches from the wall and with nowhere left to run without it looking too obvious.

“You could try asking Arthur what he thinks would be a good present for Uther, and vice versa.” She was shaking her head when Merlin noticed the subtle twist of her wrist tilting the delicate face of her bejewelled watch towards her. “But wouldn’t that look like I didn’t care or didn’t know them?”

Pushing down the nervous laughter that bubbled up his throat, Merlin tried to smile, to look as if he wasn’t overwhelmed by panic as her breath washed over his face. “Gaius perhaps? Or Morgana? They’re both very close to the Pendragon men, perhaps they have an idea.”

Catrina face blossomed into a smile. “Oh yes, thank you. Yes, I need to speak with Morgana anyway, wedding organisation. Do you know if she’s here?”  
Relief almost made Merlin’s knees buckle, though he felt a niggle of guilt at throwing Morgana to the wolves but she was an Amazon, more than looking after herself, especially against Catrina’s type. “She mentioned covering for a couple hours, so she’ll be here.” ‘On the fourth floor, well away from me and Arthur.’ Merlin frowned as Catrina once again checked her watch. What was she waiting for?

“Now, there was one more thing I need from you before I go.”

And then she on him, pressing her mouth to his, clutching at his arms to try and wrap them around herself. Eyes wide, horrified, Merlin tried to back away only to encounter the wall, Catrina moving with him. The slick of her lipstick pressed into his mouth from the force of her kiss, smearing across his face, the hint of its chemical bitter taste lying on his tongue.

“Uhmmmph!” Merlin struggled against her hold but she had an iron grip, keeping his arms around her back as she pressed forward, eyes open, narrowed as her gaze bore into his own. What the fuck was she doing? Writhing against her hold, Merlin tried to turn them, get away from the wall, break away but Catrina leant forward, using her weight to hold him against the wall.

His previous interactions with Catrina had been so civil, but her hold on his arms and the force of her mouth to his, the taste of iron against his tongue at how his lips were smashed against his teeth, the strength of her pushing him backwards into the immovable pressure of the wall was nothing polite. The grip on his arms tightened further when he tried to thrash, her head following his when he tried to wrench away from the kiss, her fake nails clawing into the unprotected skin of her forearm.

Over his muffled protests and grunts of exertion to try and free himself, Merlin didn’t hear the twisting of the door handle, but he did see the moment the door opened, a dark haired man in a suit looming in the doorway, stopping short when he caught sight

And there, a step behind Mr DuBois, was Arthur, face ashen, expression stricken.

There were several seconds of absolute silence, the din of the A&E seeming a world away, and then time sped back up, seeming to get stuck in fast-forward as a thousand things happened at once.

Catrina pushed away from Merlin, slapping him for good measure, wailing, “How dare you? Get off me!”

Mr DuBois jaw dropped open before affected fury replaced the shock, his gaze turning on Merlin as he awaited explanation, looking forward to how Merlin would try to talk his way out of this, Merlin blundering backwards from the shock of the blow, slumping against the wall, glad to finally be away from Catrina’s near violent pawing, staring at Arthur, at the clench of his hands around the papers in his grip, at the moue of shock upon his lips and far worse, the look of utter contempt in his eyes as he stared at Merlin.

“Arthur wait, please, it’s not wha-” Arthur’s eyes dropped to Merlin’s mouth, his eyebrows knitting together as he frowned. Merlin smeared the back of his hand across his mouth, seeing it come away slick and red, covered in Catrina’s lipstick, no doubt now spread across his chin and cheek.

“Arthur!” Agravaine sidestepped, avoiding Merlin’s rush to the door as he sought to explain to his boyfriend, to make sure he understood that for whatever reason, Catrina had come on to him, has initiated whatever the fuck that had been, had kissed him.

Arthur’s entire body language screamed ‘Fuck You’, as he turned swiftly on his heel and walked away. On weak, wobbling legs Merlin scrambled after him. He didn’t get far, Arthur was still in the A&E, though he was down by the Ambulance entrance, striding to the exit.

“Arthur!”

Arthur whirled round so fast that Merlin almost ploughed into him, rocking onto the balls of his feet to try and stop.

“We were happy weren’t we? I know we were happy.” Arthur’s seemed eerily calm, his tone calm and quiet as he motioned between the two of them.  
Merlin could only nod. Happy? He’d been ecstatic the last few weeks. Arthur was everything he’d ever wanted.

“So you’ll have to forgive me, because I’m feeling really fucking stupid right now!” Mindful of those around him, Arthur kept his voice low but he was almost hissing at Merlin now, grabbing those slim shoulders and shaking him. “What in God’s name were you doing?”

As suddenly as the aggression had come, it passed and he recovered himself, seemingly shocked at Merlin’s tear strewn face, the fear in his eyes. Merlin had never been frightened of Arthur before. That was something he loved about him; Merlin had never shown fear, even when he should but now, in Arthur’s hands he looked terrified.

Merlin wasn’t sure if the disgust on Arthur’s face was aimed at him, or himself, or both. Arthur let go as if his hands were burned.

“I don’t want to see you. I don’t want to have to look at you. Consider your shift over and get out of my A&E.”

“Arthur please, it wasn’t…she came at me- please- Arthur-”

Arthur pressed close, but Merlin wouldn’t back down, even Arthur came so close he almost went cross-eyed trying to keep him in focus.

“Get. Out. Of. My. A&E. Now.”

And with that he was gone, Merlin’s explanation ashes on his tongue. He felt like he couldn’t breathe, like all the air had been sucked from the building, eyes watering from the pain in his chest. The suffocation was getting worse, black spots appearing in his vision as he watched Arthur leave, the eyes of every person, staff and patients alike staring at him as he watched his world walk away from him. He was going to pass out. Here and now, he was going to fall to his knees and collapse. He felt hollow, cored, scraped out.

As he turned he caught sight of Catrina, smirk plastered over her face as she waved at Merlin, Agravaine sneering as he brushed past. “Oh dear, lover’s tiff?”

Merlin had never wanted to hurt anyone more.

At a loss, Merlin headed to the stairs, and towards the sixth floor and the oncology wing.  
**** *** ***  
“What's the point of having spent thousands on your education, of ensuring you met the right people, when you go and take up with trash regardless?

“I’m sure it’s not what it seems, that there’s a good explanation for this.”

“Arthur, I can't risk losing the good name and reputation of this hospital simply because you don’t know how to keep it in your pants. You will not go running after the boy.”

“Oh, because his word is worthless?”

 

“No, because it's worth less than yours. Agravaine told me you witnessed it too. Is that true?”

“I don’t know what I saw…Agravaine opened the door to the exam room and-”

“Are you accusing Catrina of lying to me?” Uther hissed.

“What? No!”

“She’s done nothing but try to be a friend to you.” He shook his head in disgust. “She was right, you are an ungrateful-”

Arthur frowned. Just what was Catrina whispering in his father’s ear?

“Just let me talk to him, I’m-”

“No.”  
“I’m sure I can straighten it out-”

“No. “

“I cannot believe that he...it would not be foolish to ask. Gaius has always spoken highly of Merlin, as have you-”

“Oh, Gaius says? And what makes him worthy to judge? He is the boy’s uncle is he not?”

“Please, Father. Gaius is your friend. Merlin saved my life. I can't stand by and watch him be-”

“Then don't look. This boy won't be the last to try his hand, to get his feet under the table by getting his boots under your bed. If you are ever to succeed me  
here, you are going to have to learn to recognize the type better. It's something you'll have to get used to.

“I can't accept that.”

“You're not to speak with the boy, do you understand?”

 

“You can't stop me.

“Yes I can, Arthur, that's an end to it! If you so much as utter a word to that chancer, losing his job will be the least of his concerns.”

And with that, Uther clearly believed the conversation over, turning his chair towards him and sitting down, gathering onto his blotter pile after pile of papers,  
booting up his computer.

“I have a meeting with Legal immediately. You can see yourself out Arthur.”  
*** *** ***  
Gaius sat back after Merlin recounted his tale, heart aching to see how broken his nephew was.

“Then it is as I feared and she knows we suspect. She’s been married three times-”

“Three?!”

Wincing, Gaius frowned. “Yes. None of the marriages lasted more than a year. And two ended in the death of her husband.”

Merlin opened his mouth but no sound came out. Gaius glanced at him approvingly.

“Regardless of the circumstance, I do rather like you like this, my boy.”

“She’s going to kill Uther?!”

“How fleeting respite is.” Gaius stood, lifting his suit jacket from the back of his chair.

“Greed, that’s her motivation; she lusts after wealth and power. Her first husband died as a result of a burglary he walked in on at their shared home. Ms Tregor was at an event at the time, giving a speech in front of hundreds. The burglar was never found. He’d changed his Will two months previously, cutting children from a previous marriage off entirely. She inherited thirteen million.”

“How much?!”

“Her second husband,” Gaius took a moment to wonder how to phrase it, “uh, came out. Left her for his tennis instructor but paid her off as part of a settlement.”

“Well, good for him.” Merlin nodded approvingly. “Kept his life, most of his cash and found love. Not all bad I suppose.”

“And then Jonas.” Gaius shook his head. “I was hoping it was all just…coincidence…bad luck. But it’s not.”

“And Agravaine?”

“Has always hated Uther. Blames him for Tristan and Ygraine’s deaths. To see him ruined, that would be enough for Agravaine to want to be involved. The money is simply a bonus.”

Slipping on his jacket and adjusting the collar, Gaius turned to Merlin.

“We've reached the point of no return. Uther has to be told. Do not leave this office. Do not move. Do not answer the door. And don’t ask questions.”

“You're going to tell Uther that his lady friend's a gold-digging murderous troll?”

“What did I just say?” Gaius crossed to the door. “That's exactly what I'm going to do.”

“He’s gonna take that well. Good luck.”

“Thank you, Merlin.” Gaius’ tone was acerbic.  
*** *** ***  
“Have you fucking lost your fucking mind?” Morgana didn’t wait for the door to the unoccupied private patient room to open fully, choosing instead to force her way through with the strength and unstoppable force of a hurricane.

“Morgana!” Arthur was pretty sure she was psychic- he thought he’d at least have a little time to himself before finally being found but she’d found him with the efficieny of a bloodhound, smoking him out only fifteen minutes after being sent away from his father’s office.

“Are you shitting me that you believe that Merlin would-”

“Morg-”

“-go near that gold-digging cow. He love-”

“Let me spe-”

“-s you, you’re a fucking… _ **dollophead.”**_

“ _Of course, I don’t you raving harpy!”_ bellowed Arthur, red in the face and trembling with hurt and fury.

“What kind of man are you? Because I thought you were better than to make assumptions or doing just what his father ordered! And you-wait…what?” Morgana deflated in record time, a confused expression colouring her features, lips still parted to shape words gone on the wind, hands hanging limply from raised arms.

She was floundering; the situation, this conversation was inconceivable. Merlin was the gentlest man she’d ever met. He loved Arthur with every cell in his body and would do nothing to hurt him and bringing The Royal Camelot into disrepute would destroy Arthur.

“What?” Despite it all, Arthur found himself smiling at how adorably befuddled she sounded, all the fight drained from her.

“Of course I don’t believe he’d ever…it’s Merlin for crying out loud.”

Morgana threw her bag at Arthur, viciously pleased at his grunt of surprised pain and kicked off her shoes, folding her legs elegantly beneath her as she sat down on the sofa, crushing a cushion between her hands in lieu of Arthur’s head.

“Explain. Now. Catrina would seem a good place to start.”

Arthur shook his head and grimaced. “She…I wanted Father to be happy and she made him happy.” Morgana heard the underlying pain, she knew Arthur had always worried he wasn’t enough to make his father proud, as if being a respected doctor and compassionate man wasn’t enough. Arthur had always known the perimeters of his father’s pride, always knew the conditions – perfect grades, friends from approved of families, no scandals, excellence in his extra-curricular activities – but he never knew how to make him _happy._

“I know what it sounds like, like a jealous child but there’s something about her…and now this? Merlin was right…he’d been questioning the relationship for a while, and yesterday he kept trying to talk to me, kept trying to tell me that he’d overheard something, and I knew, I knew he was holding something back but I thought it was because he was disliking her for my sake-”

“Gaius came to me. He’s in with your father right now actually.” She grimaced. “I don’t think it’s going well.”

That brought Arthur up short and he sat down with a thump. “He what? Why didn’t he-”

“Merlin tried to say something to you, you brushed it off each time. Gaius tried to talk to Uther, and got nowhere.” She licked her lips as she shook her head.

“Gaius knew Catrina or had dealings with her before, he’d heard-” she scowled as she tried to think of the right words, “-rumours,” her inflection almost a question, “that the Tregor Trust was not all it was cracked up to be. Lots of money being raised, little in the way of supplies or aid being sent-”

“Why come to you?”

Morgana glowered at Arthur for a moment before remembering they were on the same team. “Because I know people. Because I have contacts, because it’s not just you doctors that do the hard work you know.”

“Sorry,” mumbled Arthur.”

“And, because Catrina wanted ‘to be friends’,” she said in a grating impersonation. “I’m to be her Maid Of Honour.” Morgana looked sick at the thought but managed a smile at Arthur’s weak chuff of amusement. “He wanted me to keep an eye out-”

“Morgana, you shouldn't get involved. It could be dangerous. Look at what she’s willing to do to Merlin.”

“Spare me the lecture.”

“She must have found out he knew something, or thought he knew something, but how?”

Morgana knew what she was going to say was not going to be well received but carried on.

“Agravaine.”

Arthur frowned.

“You think she’s got him under her spell too?”

“I think they’re more than business partners, and I think there’s more than a marriage to Uther involved here.”

“Surely my uncle-”

“Agravaine detests your father.” Morgana didn’t see the point of sugar coating it.

“But what would he gain?”

“I don’t know yet,” she admitted, “but this isn’t just about the Pendragon fortune.”  
“You think I should tell him?” Morgana didn’t need to ask who Arthur meant, his small voice and downcast eyes making it obvious.

 

“It doesn't matter what I think.”

“I need to keep him safe. If I tell him…if I tell him, then we know what will happen. The brave idiot will just-”

“Plough in to help and get himself deeper in the shit?”

“Yeah. I’ve already had a fun filled conversation with Father…as it stands, Merlin will be under suspension pending investigation.” Morgana looked as horrified as he felt. “But what if he gets the police involved, or Catrina presses charges…”

“So you want me to pretend that you don’t believe Merlin?” The deceit of her friend didn’t sit well with Morgana, even if she saw the logic. Merlin was one of the bravest souls she’d ever met, borderline suicidal in his desire to protect those around him. If it meant that they could attempt to clear the whole business up, and protect him, it was what she’d have to do.

“I'm sorry.

“Yeah, but that means squat doesn’t it?”

“If it's any consolation, you’re not the only one hating this.”

“And if you can’t get through to your father? What then? You allow Merlin to go on believing that you think he’d cheat on you, with Catrina no less? I can't imagine any man loving anyone more than he loves you. He is devoted to you Arthur, this will destroy him.”

“No!” Arthur’s response was vehement as he jumped to his feet. “No,” he repeated, softly.

“If I can’t get through to Father, there’ll be nobody that can. Gaius is his oldest friend but he tried speaking with him a couple of times before, about the speed of the engagement…Father spoke of it, like it was nothing but I don’t...there’s six days until Christmas, so that’s how long we have. If I can’t get through to him by then-”

“So I have to lie to Merlin for almost a week. And Gwen. And Lance. And Gwaine.” Her eyes widened. “Oh,” she breathed, “he is gonna kick the shit out of you.”

Arthur nodded.

“Sometimes you've got to do what you think is right, and damn the consequences,” she answered.

Arthur nodded again.  
*** *** ***  
Gaius’ return was far sooner than he’d hoped but about as long as he’d expected; Uther was not to be reckoned with. Nor Arthur.

As he opened the door, Merlin jettisoned out of the desk chair and towards his uncle, screeching to a halt when the older man held up his hand and frowned.

“Don’t say anything, Merlin.” Gaius cautioned as he shut the door behind him, slumping into his chair as Merlin hovered over him.

“Do sit down Merlin,” he pointed at the patient chair, resolutely waiting for him to do so. “And please don’t say anything.

“He took it as well as-”

“If you so much as think ‘I told you so’, I will-”

“I wouldn’t!” Merlin held his hands up, “Wasn't going to say anything.” Though a smirk tugged at his lips until he remembered that he was no doubt going to lose his job over something that wasn’t his fault, that he’d lost Arthur, that he wasn’t trusted by Arthur, that The Camelot was at risk from Agravaine, that Arthur could die.

You were going to say, "I told you so."

Merlin smiled weakly, all too aware his uncle could see right through him. “OK. I was. But I...I'm not going to now.”

“Uther didn't take to it well.” Which was both the understatement of the century and an utterly superfluous statement.

 

“I know him, Merlin. He's a proud man, but he's not stupid. He will reflect on what I said, I'm sure he will.”

“In time to stop the wedding that’s going ahead in six days?” Merlin’s voice grew shrill, high pitched and cracking. “In time to stop them from driving his son to the ends of the earth. To stop them from trying to kill him and Arthur?!”

Gaius was kept from needing to find an answer by a knocking on the door.

“Doctor Gaius,” the banging was less a request for entrance than a warning impending invasion. “Doctor Gaius, its Security.”

Merlin leapt back to his feet, encountering Gaius stepping in front of him, calmly adjusting his tie before he moved to the door.  
*** *** ***  
Merlin made his way towards the bank of staff lifts, slowly dragging his ID card over the scanner to call one to take him to the twelfth floor. Knowing exactly what he was being summoned for was so much worse than being called for without a clue. And that was just the point wasn’t it? He hadn’t done anything. The lift, when it came, was oddly empty and Merlin tried his best not to see it as prophetic. In the three months he’d worked at Royal Camelot he’d gotten a lift to himself once. Three walls of the lift were mirrored and the reflection upon reflection and reflection of himself was disconcerting. He did a quick check, always aware that there was a security camera in one corner and for some strange reason he didn’t want the security officers who viewed the feeds to think he was vain, but he also didn’t want to turn up to Uther Pendragon’s office looking like, as Arthur was so fond of telling him, the bastard child of a halfwit and a court jester.

Arthur.

Arthur who he loved, more than anything. Arthur who wouldn’t even look at him. Who wouldn’t answer his phone and already he felt like he’d lost a limb, kept reaching for something with an arm he no longer had.

Uther’s administration assistant, a handsome young man, leapt up and gestured for Merlin to follow him, leading him to the door situated behind his desk, knocking gently three times. At the muffled ‘come’, the young man opened the door wide and motioned Merlin through with the other, shutting the door  
behind him as he left Merlin to the wolves.

Merlin had never had cause to enter Uther Pendragon’s office before. He knew that it was known as the Dragon’s Lair and as he took in the dark panelling, the blood red curtains and what appeared to be a shield, perhaps a family crest high upon one wall, Merlin was inclined to agree. The entire room seemed to be designed with one intent- to put the person on the wrong side of the desk completely ill at ease.

And wasn’t it working.

Caterina stood behind Uther, one hand resting on his shoulder, Agravaine DuBois at her side.

“Ah, Doctor Emrys, perhaps you can help us clear this little matter up for us?” The smile on Uther Pendragon’s lips didn’t reach his eyes and he seemed to stare straight through the man standing on the other side of his desk. “And close the door.”

Though, Merlin noted, how Uther was staring at him was nothing compared to the expression he cast at Agravaine. Merlin darted a look at Arthur, seeking some hint as to what he was thinking from the set of his shoulders and jaw, Arthur had moved from his spot by the far wall and was now staring out the window behind his father’s desk, appearing to take no interest in the proceedings. Merlin felt the knot in his gut tighten further but he stood tall, staring straight into Uther’s eyes.

“I’ll try.”

Merlin’s heart started to pound in his chest in the ensuing silence, knees suddenly feeling weak and he desperately wanted to sit.

“Miss Tregor has made an allegation that you approached her in an inappropriate manner during her time with you, and that after she turned down your advances-”

He was interrupted by Catrina himself.

“He came at me like a rabid-”

“That you made further attempts at-” Uther looked pained for a moment, “seducing Miss Tregor and that when she still refused you, you became physical. You-” he coughed, clearly uncomfortable with what he was saying, “forced yourself upon her, only retreating when her business partner, Mr Dubois entered the cubicle with Doctor Pendragon.”

Arthur still hadn’t turned away from the view outside the window, still not looked at Merlin and had made no indication he’d even heard what was happening.

It felt as if the room fell away, spinning away from Merlin as he was pinned under Uther’s gaze, Catrina and Agravaine wearing near identical smirks. Questions  
rolled through his mind; what had he expected? He’d known what the two planned, what hadn’t he tried harder with Arthur? Why hadn’t he had Gaius talk to

Arthur? Why hadn’t Gaius gone to Arthur himself? What was going to happen to him? Who would look after Arthur?

Nothing was going to be the same was it? Every moment of his life up until this point, all the work and struggle…all gone.

This wasn’t his destiny, it was his end. All his dreams, of paying off his mother’s mortgage, of taking her to Paris and Rome, of spending his life with Arthur…

“I’m sorry, Sir. That’s not what happened.”

Uther stood, knuckles against the desk as he leant forward.

“Are you calling Ms Tregor a liar?”

“Ms Tregor came to me-”

“I would never!” Catrina cried, leaping to her feet with such force her chair fell over backwards as she stepped back as if to get distance between her and Merlin, smirking at Merlin just before she covered her mouth with her hand, face crumbling as Uther turned to her, calming hand pressed to her cheek.

“I didn’t-she wanted advice-”

“And what advice would you be able to offer a woman such as this?”

“I give you my word, Sir, this is all a misunderstanding, please believe me.”

Uther sneered, lips twisting in distaste. “And just how much is your word worth to me?”

“I thought…I thought you hired people of integrity, it’s what you always said you’d build a hospital on.” Catrina leant over to speak directly into Uther’s ear, one  
hand tangling with his, the other resting at his nape, fingers playing his hair as she condemned his practices.

“I thought I had.” Uther cleared his throat leaning down to pick up Catrina’s chair, motioning her back into it and sat back down. “Pending an investigation, you are suspended, without pay. Get out of my hospital.”

Not once did Arthur turn from the window.

Not once did Arthur say a word in his defence.

Not once did he acknowledge the ending of Merlin’s world.

*** *** ***  
Merlin closed the door quietly behind him, the heavy door making barely a click. He didn’t have the energy to yell or rail or slam doors. The silence was broken only by the hustle and bustle of hospital life carrying on past the office doors- nurses hurrying in soft-sole shoes to their patients, porters pushing wheelchairs and gurneys and patients making their way to clinics. Merlin’s world had fallen down around his ears but somehow the world itself hadn’t stopped. He’d thought maybe it would.

“Merlin?” It was clear from Gaius’ tone that it hadn’t been the first time he’d called for Merlin’s attention. “Merlin I didn’t know about any meeting. I would have come with you.” Reaching for his nephew Gaius was shocked at the tremors running through Merlin, the slight man almost shaking in his grasp.

“I think I’m going to go home now,” said Merlin, voice strong despite how cracked open he felt. He felt like a fraud, as if he wasn’t the same person he’d been ten minutes previous- he looked the same, sounded the same but inside he wasn’t the man he was. In less than twelve hours he’d lost everything and felt like a man inhabiting a world that no longer made sense. He knew the suspension was only until Uther could safely fire him, his career would never recover, he’d never get Arthur back. He’d have to stop introducing himself as Doctor Emrys.

“Merlin? I’m going to come with you. You just hold onto me,” Gaius linked his own arm through Merlin’s, “that’s it. I’m going to take you home now.” ‘And then come back and speak with Uther.’ His friend could be severe but this, believing that Merlin would do what…Catrina needed to be stopped.

As they left the building, Gaius staring down any and all staff member that rubber-necked at his nephew, Merlin had a bone chilling thought.

He was going to have to tell his mother.  
*** *** ***  
“Well, then how can you be sure?” Morgana asked, reining in her fury with only partial success but then in order to have Uther buy that Arthur was on Catrina’s side in this, she needed to sell it and she was fucking furious which made life easier.

“Because Arthur saw him with his own eyes. “ Morgana made a show of sending an assessing glance at Arthur before letting her gaze return to Uther.

“We have reason to believe this isn’t the first time he has assaulted Catrina.”

“Rubbish! He would never do such a thing.”

“Every man has his secrets.”

Arthur slid a heavy velvet bag across the table, into Morgana’s grasp, a sapphire necklace spilling out into her palm. “We found this in his locker.

“So it was planted!” She rounded on Arthur. “How can you really believe, believe with all your heart that Merlin, _Merlin,_ would ever steal from anyone  
“Who would bother to set up a lowly A &E doctor.”

“This is madness! You condemn a man with no proof! Just a few weeks ago, you were praising him for saving Arthur’s life, for confronting another doctor who was endangering patients that entered your hospital.

“I have enough proof. What Arthur witnessed and that,” he pointed at the necklace still in her grasp.

“Who is the ‘we’ that found the necklace?”

“That is unimportant.”

“Who found it Uther?” Uther may be the Medical Director, may have been a man she considered an uncle in all but blood, but Morgana’s voice brooked no defiance.

“Agravaine.” He almost spat the name.

“A man you despise, a man who has tried to unseat you from your position here,” Arthur blinked in shock; Uther had never mentioned that. He knew the two men had never been friendly, though Agravaine was always charming to Arthur. “And yet you trust Agravaine over Merlin’s word?

“And you Arthur! Have you nothing to say?” Her friend seemed to be in shock, staring blankly at his father, jaw twitching, stepping forward to his father’s side.

“Perhaps it requires further-”

“We have the evidence we need, Arthur. Doctor Emrys has been suspended and when Legal gives the word, I will terminate his contract.” Arthur’s head bowed as he backed down.

“If you do this, both of you, I will never forgive you.” She threw the necklace back at Arthur with as much force as she could manage and stormed out, slamming the office door as she went, those huddled outside hastening to get out of her way.  
**** **** ***  
Merlin only managed to get out of the car through muscle memory, the ratchet of the handbrake had him reaching for the door handle, halfway out of the car without realizing. He barely registered Gaius coming around the bonnet and pulling him away from the car to shut and lock the doors.

His flat felt weird, almost like he was an interloper in a stranger’s home; the sounds were all wrong, the jarring knowledge he shouldn’t be there, should be at work…it was all wrong.

Gaius installed him on the sofa and disappeared, returning minutes later to find Merlin staring into space, hands lax until the mug of hot, sweet tea was pressed into them, Gaius curling frigid fingers around the cup.

“I need to-”

“I’ve called Lance, he’s on his way.”

That got Merlin’s attention, jolting as he turned to his uncle, uncaring of the tea that sloshed to the carpet.

“Why?”

“Because you’re going to need a lawyer, and Lance is one of the best.”

Merlin nodded, slowly, and when Gaius leaned over to try and raise his hands, he automatically took a slurp of the tea. It was scalding, the burning trail from mouth to stomach heating him.

“I need to call my mother,” Merlin murmured, taking another slurp, before distractedly placing the mug onto the coffee table and dug out his phone.

“Dead.” He almost found it funny.

Merlin could only stare at the screen hopelessly, before he dropped it to the floor. He was up and across the room to fetch the home phone without conscious thought. His mind was a complete blank; his mother had taught him the phone number when he was four years old, testing him over and over until it was engraved on his heart. They’d never moved, never needed a different number. He had a quarter of a century of knowing those eleven digits like nothing else.

But it was gone.

Pushing random buttons, he managed to bring up the speed dial options, finding his mother’s number at 1. He had no recollection of keying it in, but it was there nonetheless.

“Merlin-”

He held out a quelling hand to hush his uncle.

Closing his eyes against the stab of pain in his chest, he pushed the ‘1’ and then the call button. She was going to be devastated; she’d raised him practically alone, scrimped and saved and gone without to pay for his education and now, four months into his time at the prestigious Camelot, it was all over. He’d let her down. She was coming to visit in a few days, a family Christmas with Gaius and Gwaine. Hardly a celebration now. He’d wanted to earn enough to pay off her mortgage, how’d he even pay his rent now? He’d have to move home, leave his friends. Leave his…well, Arthur wasn't his anything anymore was he?

Merlin pressed the phone so harder against his ear with each ring, the handset creaking in his ear. Shame clenched his stomach even though he knew he didn’t do anything wrong.

It wasn’t fair.

“No, my boy, it’s not,” said Gaius, from the armchair. Merlin jumped, unaware he’d spoken aloud.

Hunith answered on what felt like the fiftieth ring, and her cheery, “Emrys household,” was all it took for tears to well in Merlin’s eyes.

“Mum.”

“Merlin?” Hunith was instantly worried. “Merlin, what’s happened? Merlin? Is it Gaius?”

He almost hung up, rather than break his mother’s heart, his own heart by speaking out loud.

“Merlin, you’re worrying me…is someone with you? Did something happened with Arthur?”

When he was able to reply, his voice was hoarse and raspy.

“Something like that.”  
**** *** ****  
“Merlin?” Morgana knocked louder on the door. Perhaps she’d been wrong, maybe he hadn’t returned home last night. Perhaps gone to Gaius’? Would he have returned to Ealdor? He wasn’t the type to run from a fight, but that was the point of this wasn’t it? They needed to keep him safe. Merlin had defended them all over his time with them, protective of his friends, particularly of Arthur; now it was their time to rescue him. Just as she turned to walk away the door opened but it was Gwen not Merlin who answered.

“Morgana.” Her voice was low as she looked over her shoulder at the sofa, at the huddled figure curled upon the cushions.

“How is he?”

“He's-uh-he’s doing… I don’t know, Morgana, I don’t know. Gaius and Gwaine stayed with him last night…Arthur wouldn’t answer the phone, they wouldn’t let him try and see him.” Tears spilled down her face as Gwen stepped back to allow Morgana in. “I took the day off sick to stay with him. He fell asleep about an hour ago.” She shut the door as quietly as she could. “Who could believe he’d cheat on Arthur? Even look at someone else?”

“We should let him rest. I don’t suppose it was easy to get him asleep at all. Let’s get you a cup of tea.” Taking her friend’s hand, Morgana led her into the kitchen, depressing the tab on the kettle and swept Gwen into a tight hug.

“We’re going to get him out of this,” she vowed.

“You believe him.” It wasn’t a question.

“And so does Arthur.”

“What?!” Gwen’s shriek was deafening from less than an inch away but with a glance at the sofa, Morgana was relieved to see that though Merlin shifted, head turning to the side he remained asleep and hustled Gwen into the far corner of the kitchen.

“Arthur wasn’t sure, but when he saw Catrina on Merlin he knew something was wrong and Agravaine coming to fetch him just when they’d be in a compromising position? Hah. I spoke to him after Merlin left. He’s seen what happens to people who’ve tried to talk to Uther about Catrina; he knows he’s the only one that could possibly get through to him.”

“What?!”

“Even Arthur’s noticed that there’s something…off about Uther lately. There’s happiness and there’s…he’s just didn’t want to see it.” she shook her head and sighed. “He doesn’t want to get Merlin into any more danger so he’s keeping it secret while he tries to find evidence on Catrina.”

“And Agravaine?” Something about what Morgana had said had started a little bell ringing in Gwen’s head, but she couldn’t think what.

“I don’t know. He’s ready to see the worst of Catrina, but his uncle? He’s more likely to believe that Agravaine is blindly following Catrina, not a co-conspirator.”

What had been clamouring for attention made itself known.

“Danger?! What do you mean danger?”

Morgana leaned around Gwen to look at Merlin, tense and unsure.

“Come with me.” Slipping her shoes off, she tiptoed through the living room, Gwen close behind and turned into the first room off the hall.

“And to think, I’d hoped to go my entire live without entering Gwaine’s bedroom.” Attempt at levity falling flat, Morgana turned to her friend.

“This is important, do you understand? This does not leave this room.” Gwen nodded but Morgana pressed her. “Say it Gwen, this will not leave this room, you promise. I need you to swear on Lance’s life.” Gwen’s eyes widened and she unconsciously stepped away as if to distance herself from whatever Morgana had to say.

“I promise.”

“Gaius came to me. He’s been doing some digging into Catrina and Agravaine.”

“He always seemed uncomfortable whenever I saw them together.”

“Yes, isn’t he just? Something in her story-”

“Her husband being killed?”

“Yeah. Something in it just nagged at him.” She sighed, wondering how much to divulge; to ask Gwen to keep something so important secret from her fiancé was unconscionable. “Merlin overheard some of a conversation between Catrina and Agravaine. It seems they’re much more than business partners. Gaius found that Jonas had been having some questions as to the true nature of their relationship just before their trip to the refugee camp.”

“You mea-”

“He thinks they killed him. Or at the very least set it up for him to be injured and have no doctor.”

“But…” Gwen’s expression was horrified. “But dozens of people died.”

“And she inherited dozens of millions. More than worth the cost. To her.”

Gwen gaped at her. “But…but she seemed so…well…nice I guess. And I never felt I could really judge their engagement given Lance and I.” She shook her head.

“I knew he was it for me in seconds.”

“You guys still didn’t get engaged two weeks in did you?” asked Morgana.

“True.” She sobered. “So you think Merlin could really be in danger?”

“Yes. If they know he’s heard something, or suspects something…” she shook her head and shrugged, sighing. “Arthur thinks this is the best way and we’re already halfway down the path, got to see it through now.”

It didn’t sit well with Gwen, Morgana could tell; Gwen was an honest woman. Open and truthful. Deceit, especially of a friend, being asked to keep secrets from the love of her life…Morgana was willing to scratch Catrina’s eyes out for what she was doing to her friends, her little family.

“Come here,” she said, opening her arms in invitation, her friend stepping into her embrace immediately. “We’re going to do this,” she mumbled into Gwen’s hair. “You believe that? Arthur is coming clean to Merlin regardless. Then we sit back and watch the fireworks.”  
*** *** ***  
Merlin woke an hour, and two cups of tea, later. It killed Morgana to witness the moment when he came fully awake, when he remembered the last two days, when his hand stopped reaching out for Arthur, when the frown and misery sank deep, down to the bone. Normally, his rolling off the sofa onto the floor would have been comical, but now it just made Morgana want to rush to his side and pick him up, brush him off and wrap him in bubble wrap and cotton wool. And beat Catrina bloody.

“Hey,” she whispered, standing up and setting the kettle to boil, reaching for another mug.

“Morgana?” Even taking into consideration the roughness of sleep, Merlin’s voice was broken, desperate for a small nugget of hope. And she had to quash it.

Morgana bit into her lip and blinked back the tears that watered her vision.

“Have you spoken to Arthur? He must realise this is a mistake. Whatever Catrina is up to, I’m a threat or a concern or something. She came at me, he must know that! They know I overheard them, they must suspect I saw them together. Whatever it is that’s going on it’s not me.”

“I know that. Of course I do. But Uther...Uther only sees enemies.”

“And Arthur?”

“Is too easily led by his father.”

“Then...” Morgana turned back to face him.

“...there's no hope?”

“There's never no hope, Merlin. Not with me on your side. I’m supposed to go with them to the country house tomorrow. I didn’t want to go- _wasn’t_ going to go but now, I can be your spy.” She was relieved to see the flicker of a smile on Merlin’s lips. “I’ll be watching those two like a hawk, and working on Arthur.”

The smile faded. “If he needs to be worked on then what’s the point?”

The lie muzzled her but it couldn’t stop her from gathering him into her arms, squeezing tight as she could. “I swear we are going to get you through this. And make Uther pay. You must understand, Uther was pretty much all Arthur had as a kid, and even that wasn’t a lot. Uther pulled away from so many people after Ygraine died, took years for my father to make regular contact. By the time he had us to see and be around, the damage was done.” She turned her head so her lips almost brushed his ear. “He loves you. He was just brought up to believe The Camelot came first regardless of the cost to himself. He loves you.”

She just hoped the message got through. That Merlin believed her. She’d stuck to the plan, but she’d evaded having to lie. Nothing she said to Merlin was anything she hadn’t thought about in the past.

She held on to him, beckoning Gwen forward, the pair crushing Merlin between them, tears rolling down Gwen’s face as she felt Merlin’s lean body tremble, though he made no sound.

Eventually he began to tense in their hold and the women stepped back. Morgana gave them both a minute and turned to the kettle. “You got a teapot around here?” she asked. “Be easier to just make a pot.” Merlin began to rummage in a cupboard, dust wafting up off the pot he found, grateful that hid friends weren’t making a fuss of his little moment.

“Your mum is coming for Christmas right?” Gwen asked, casting an eye around the living room. It wasn’t that it was dirty, per se, it was just very cluttered and Gwaine had. She couldn’t quite define what that meant but she could still feel it.

Merlin nodded as he handed the pot to Morgana who wrinkled her nose in disgust, rinsing it out thoroughly under the tap.

“Then we are gonna put some music on and kill time until Lance and your uncle get here by cleaning.”  
*** *** ***  
If he could just talk to Arthur, he could make him see sense, Merlin was sure. Phone calls went unanswered, texts and messages ignored. He’d tried going around to Arthur’s the night before but while Knight had let him in into the building, _‘Mr Pendragon has asked not to be disturbed._ ’ The hospital or the pub were the only places he could think of to look for him.

He lay awake in bed until six, using showering and getting ready as a distraction from the nerves clenching his stomach, the ever present headache pounding behind his eyes and the tremor in his hands. _‘I’ve done nothing wrong,’_ ran on a repeat track in his head.

Stepping out the front door was the hardest thing he’d done, having to force himself to wrap his scarf around his neck and don his coat, take a deep breath and cross the threshold, closing the door quietly behind him, glad for once that Gwaine slept like the dead. Gaius or Gwen or Gwaine had stayed with him for the last two days; this was the only time he’d manage to slip away. The walk to the hospital was the longest and shortest of his life, the streets filled with adults heading to work, already on their mobiles or reading the newspaper and not looking where they were going, kids going to school listening to music blaring out of the mobiles rather than using headphones, all with a purpose, all working through their own shit. But today Merlin couldn’t sink into the game, much as he’d like to in order to keep calm.

Skirting the main entrance, he stole through a gap in the fencing, and into the back-lot, drawing his hoodie up over his head, buttoning his coat. To anyone he knew he probably looked like a twink or a mugger, or very possibly both, but he wanted to stay under the radar; he’d promised his uncle to stay away from the hospital but Gwen had told him Arthur had barely been answering her calls, and cancelled on pub nights. The only place he seemed to go was the hospital.  
Grateful that Excalibur was so easy to recognise, Merlin hunkered down out of sight of the cameras and the door and waited.

As Arthur burst out the side door he was still struggling into his coat, the cold wind biting but he couldn’t give a shit; he was running out of time to get concrete evidence on Catrina and he’d been unable to get his uncle alone. He had only four days.

He was carrying his bag in his teeth, shrugging his coat on, lost in thought when he walked into the hunched figure by the car.

“Oh!” He stepped back, bag dropping to the floor. Scooping it up, he took in the person he’d walked into he felt his heart plummet.

“Merlin.” He was almost impressed by the calmness in his tone. The man he loved scrambled to his feet using Excalibur’s wheel arch to push upwards. He looked like shit. His normally pale skin was almost grey and his eyes looked bruised. As soon as he stood, Merlin tucked his hands under his arms, the stupid idiot having come out without gloves hallway through December. Arthur aborted the move he made to grab his own gloves and toss them over. When Merlin made a move to step forward, Arthur took a step back.

“Arthur, I need-”

“What you need, is to get out of here. Uther’s ordered Security to detain you on sight and call the police.”

That seemed to shock Merlin, stopping him up short, arms dropping. “What?”

“Catrina's accused you of stealing from her. A necklace from her office.”

“But I didn't.” Merlin’s voice was rough, and Arthur saw him reach for him before hesitating.

_‘I know that’._

“I don't want to know, and you haven't got time to explain. If you value your freedom, you'll leave The Camelot right now.”

“Arthur, she is a troll, and she's trying to set me up.”

“We've been through this. You came here to talk to me and, in case you haven’t noticed, we’ve talked, I no longer wish to continue.”

“I'm telling the truth. I saw her. I heard them. I saw them, together. Arthur, please.” As he implored Arthur, Merlin knew that his hoodie could catch fire and he would be incapable of looking away; he’d fall to his knees if he thought it would help his cause but clearly Arthur had no wish to listen.

“I don't care. You need to leave, Merlin,” said Arthur, tone leaden.

“Arthur, please!”

“Go. Go!” Arthur spread his hand on Merlin’s chest and pushed him backwards, closing his eyes against the hurt on Merlin’s face, the stumble and hitch in his breath, brushing resolutely past him, heading straight to the driver door, the blip of the alarm deactivating sharp in the otherwise quiet car park.

He thanked a God he wasn’t sure he believed in that Merlin didn’t try and follow him. He’d have been unable to withstand another round, falling to the other man’s feet to beg forgiveness, all his worries and fears pouring out of him. But if Merlin was already coming back here, when Morgana had said Gaius had warned him off, then he needed to reiterate that, he needed to ensure Merlin would stop.

Arthur reversed out of his spot with such speed the wheels squealed on the tarmac, the scent of burning rubber cloying as he sped away, Merlin watching Excalibur until it, and Arthur were out of sight. He slumped back against the wall, and slid to the ground, uncaring of the brick work cutting at his clothing. As his breath grew short, his chest heaving against the pain, he admonished himself for being so arrogant; to think that he’d thought Arthur had loved him as much as he loved Arthur. It would never have occurred to him that Arthur clearly didn’t trust him. Maybe he was the arrogant man he’d first seen. A chill ran through him at the thought that had nothing to do with the scent of snow on the wind. He shook his head. He’d seen who Arthur was, the compassion he held for his patients, his deep and abiding love for The Camelot and his loyalty to his father, though Merlin had seen little reason for the deep respect Arthur held for Uther. The man came across as being roughly as affectionate as a cactus.

If he couldn’t get through to Arthur, then he had to fight this the only way that was left to him; working with Gaius and Lance, fighting Catrina with provable facts. He could help save Uther from Catrina. Even if Arthur didn’t trust him, didn’t love him, he could be the better man and save Arthur before he figured out what to do next.  
*** *** ***  
Arthur’s first impulse was to stop, to drive back down the street, ditch the car and run like hell until he reached Merlin, spill out everything, tell him everything he suspected and how he did trust him, he did and he’d do everything in his power to have him reinstated, publicly righted.

The second was to just go home and wreck the place, to just grab the cricket bat from the hallway closet and smash everything.

He resisted the need the pull to glance in his rear-view. So be it. He was strong enough to give up Merlin temporarily, just for the next few days, for the good of Uther, his uncle and The Camelot. He had to keep him safe and focus on trapping Catrina. He would have to rely on Merlin’s ludicrously big heart and forgiving nature. Worst came to worst he’d let Gwaine kick his ass and then camp out on Merlin’s doorstep. And Gaius’. And Hunith’s.

Only the determination and resolve drummed into him by countless boarding schools and holidays with his father allowed Arthur to keep his right foot on the gas pedal, driving past the turn off to Merlin’s without even looking down it.

When he arrived back at his place he parked on the street, and strode past Knight as the concierge tried to get his attention, waving the man away as though nothing more than an annoying gnat, closing the lift doors in his face.

His workbag was the first thing thrown against the wall the moment he stepped into the flat, the stack of journals that he always meant to read flew at the wall, handfuls of pages ripping free to flutter slowly to the carpet. His coffee mug, thankfully empty, was next, hurled with a grunt against the wall, shattering quite satisfactorily. A plate appeared in his vision and unquestioningly he grabbed it, flinging it like a Frisbee with such force he had to step sharply sideways to avoid debris.

“You done?” Morgana’s voice cut through his blinding rage. When had she arrived? Her coat was still on, her nose pink from the cold. No doubt she was the reason for Knight’s attempts to speak with him.

“I thought you’d grown out of your little temper tantrums,” she raised an eyebrow at the mess littered across the floor, gaze sweeping over Arthur, listening to the heave of his breaths. “Clearly you’ve not changed as much as I thought, going by the whirlwind that appears to have rampaged through your flat.”

Ignoring her, Arthur went to the hallway closet and tugged a bag out of it, uncaring of the clatter and soft thumps that followed, slamming the door shut.

“I take it Merlin slipped the net?” Morgana wasn’t expecting Arthur to turn on her, towering over her and she wasn’t expecting the fury on his face.

“You’re joking over it? Do you understand what’s at stake?”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t…I’m sorry. I wasn’t-” She reached over and placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing tight. “On the positive side, he’s not given up. On you or on Catrina.” She shook her head when he opened his mouth to reply. “I know you don’t want him involved. I just mean, he’s not given up on you, he isn’t automatically buying that you’re a heartless bastard.” She sighed. “But that’s not going to last forever. We’ve got to figure this- where are you going?” Morgana asked as Arthur headed to the door.

“Gym.”

“And that’ll fix this and mend your broken heart?”

“No. But it’ll help clear my head.” He turned to the woman he considered as close as a sister. “I am doing the right thing aren’t I, Morgana? Keeping it from him?” He was so plaintive, so desperate Morgana moved to his side, rolling onto the balls of her feet to encase him in a hug. “We need to keep him safe. First and foremost, Arthur we have to keep him safe. They’ve already set their sights on him. If we can keep him away from the hospital, away from them…”

“He’ll take me back? He’ll listen to me?”

When Morgana offered no assurance, when her silence dragged out, Arthur swallowed hard and it was a long, long while before he could leave the safety of Morgana’s arms.

As Arthur travelled back down to his car, Morgana sent a hasty text to Gwaine.  
*** *** ***  
Lance stood outside the small staff gym, worriedly peering in through the small window in the door at whatever was going on inside. He’d seen Arthur drive in as he’d left with what little information he’d been able to glean from Records and followed him, watching as Arthur headed straight to the treadmill, setting a ruthless pace.

“Hey,” Gwaine swept around the corner and clapped him on the shoulder, taking a look himself. ‘Ah.’

“I thought about talking to him, but-”

“He doesn’t want to hear it.” Lance nodded and Gwaine rolled his eyes.

“He’s got this ridiculous notion in his head that we’re all against him and that he’s alone.”

“Yeah, except it’s not all that ridiculous.” Gwaine cocked his head in question at Lance’s uncharacteristically hard tone

“None of us believe Merlin did anything wrong. We’re all going to figure a way out. Arthur only has his father.

“Then it’s up to us to show Arthur the light.” He gestured to the exit over his shoulder with his thumb. “Go on back to work, it’s alright. I got this.”

“You sure?” Lance was hesitant, eyes flicking back and forth between the figure of Arthur, Gwaine and the exit, clearly torn about what he should do.

“Yeah. Besides, when I kick his ass, you’ll be able to say you weren’t here and didn’t see anything.” Gwaine pat Lance on his cheek and then shoved him towards  
the door.

“Go.”

It wasn’t until the door clanked shut behind his friend that Gwaine made his way into the gym, watching Arthur’s reflection in the windows, Arthur not appearing to take note of his entrance.

Gwaine strolled over to the stationary bike that was in the row in front of the treadmill, straddling the seat backwards to get himself into Arthur’s eye-line.  
Despite the length of time he’d been running and the sweat pouring from his face, droplets splashing onto the treadmill’s console and belt, Arthur’s breaths were slow and steady, eyes staring at a spot on the wall, arms pumping by his sides.

“You know what I love about Merlin?” said Gwaine over the sound of the machine. “He’s so loyal, never expects anything from anyone. Never looks to be credited for his work, let’s the results speak for themselves.” Arthur didn’t speak, the slap-slap-slap of his trainers the only answer.

“That’s okay, you can just listen.” Gwaine let his legs hang free, kicking his heels against the bike’s pedals.

“See, here’s the thing, you and I, we weren’t great friends,” Gwaine narrowed his eyes at Arthur’s slight wince. “We got along, played footie, went out for drinks but…not really friends.”

Gwaine rolled his eyes at Arthur’s stubbornness. He should have known, he was the same on the field.

“And then Merlin arrived, and that stick up your ass,” he huffed a laugh, “well…even before you guys actually got together you were happier. You relaxed, you had fun, you stopped yelling at hospital staff so much.”

Arthur’s stumble let Gwaine know he’d made a direct shot.

Taking his gaze off Arthur, Gwaine made a show of looking out the window, studying Arthur’s reflection and smiling at how he’d caught Arthur’s attention.

“And the group became closer. You, Gwen, Morgana…you three have known each other for decades but the rest of us? Colleagues, teammates, drinking buddies- but now, we’re family.”

Another stumble, Arthur taking a few steps to recover.

“Best thing? Merlin has friends that’d go to the end of the earth for him. Even if it means having to beat the seven bells out of someone.”

Gwaine never flinched away from the uncomfortable or awkward conversations, preferring instead to plough right on through.

“So I’m only going to say this once, Princess,” he started conversationally. “You’re a fucking fool.” He swung his foot again, the harsh sound of it smacking into the plastic casing of the wheel of the stationary bike brittle against the soft slaps of Arthur’s steps.

“I’ve had my heart broken enough today, Gwaine.” Arthur ground out past gritted teeth. “I don’t want to lose another friend.”

“Do you really think that’s your choice to make, Princess?” Gwaine cocked his head to the side as he asked.

Arthur clearly hadn’t expected that response. “What?” He slammed his palm down on the red stop button on the console, using the handrails to lift himself off the belt and onto the runners, glaring at Gwaine, frown etched deep into his brow.

“Merlin is my friend. He’s my best friend.” Gwaine smiled self-depreciatively and huffed out a pathetic laugh. “Sometimes I think he’s my first real friend. He’s like…he’s like having a family again.”

The physio nimbly jumped down from the bike and, indifferent to the sweat that covered Arthur’s body, clamped his hands over Arthur’s biceps. Arthur was starkly reminded that Gwaine was an extremely strong man, his athletic nature combined with his chosen profession making him a formidable opponent if he so chose. It was only the man’s gentle disposition that made others, made him, forget that.

“Which is why you are going to have one minute to explain just what the fuck is wrong in your head before I introduce said head to that weight rack and the floor and possibly a toilet bowl. On the plus side, you’re already in a hospital.”  
*** *** ***  
Morgana winced as her phone rang out in the quiet of Catrina’s office. Slapping her palm over the screen, she silenced it and hunkered down behind the desk and listened for anyone approaching the door.

She was still huddled by the filing cabinet, manila folders in hand when it rang again.

“Son of a bit-” This time she answered; Gwaine would keep ringing and ringing and even on silent it would distract her.

“Not a great time Gwaine, can I ca-”

“So,” Gwaine interrupted, “Morgana dear, when were you going to explain the plan?”  
*** *** ***  
Merlin knew it was late, so late it was becoming very early. He knew it was late because even Gwaine had gone to bed, no doubt dreaming about cheese and apple pie again. Merlin however was stuck staring at the ceiling. Every time his lids slid shut he could see a montage of his weeks with Arthur; the smile that was just for him, the gentleness that overcame his face as his came, the horror as he saw Catrina all over him.

He tossed and turned, unable to deafen the yelling voices in his head, the triumphant laughs of Agravaine and Catrina as he was dismissed from Uther’s office into Lance’s waiting hug. His friend had taken a sabbatical to stand as legal protection for Merlin, willing to lose his job in order to stand at Merlin’s side.

Giving up on sleep, Merlin slipped out of bed and knelt by his bed, pulling out from under it the variety of gift bags and carrier bags and boxes that held the assortment of Christmas gifts he’d compiled for his friends. Collecting scissors and tape from the kitchen and the rolls of wrapping paper from the living room,  
he sat on his carpet and began the monotonous task of wrapping.

The last gift he pulled free had been intended for Arthur. He’d bought some elegant frames and placed inside them all the photographs of Ygraine Gaius had been able to pull together from his own archives and friends and colleagues. A small scrapbook held various letters of hers, and close friend’s fondest memories of her. Running his hand over the front cover, Merlin could barely breath; he’d been looking forward to giving these to Arthur, to see his face. He was worried it would be too much but now…

Reaching for the scissors, Merlin stacked the frames on top of each other, layers of tissue paper between and began to wrap them, making as neat a job as possible. Maybe Morgana could give them to Arthur, he should still have them. She and Arthur would be joining Catrina and Uther in the country later that day, he’d have to remember to send her a text, ask her to come and collect them. By the time she came back from her holiday, he might already have gone back to Ealdor with his mother, this might be the last chance he got to see her for a while, possibly ever. He had a meeting with Lance later, well pretty much the whole day, he could take presents for him and Gwen then, leaving the presents for Percy and Freya with them.  
**** ****  
“It’s okay Merlin.” Gwen swept him into a crushing hug. “We’re going to get you out of this.” She pressed her lips to his ear. “I promise, we’re going to prove your innocence.” Needing the comfort, clenching his jaw against the tears that threatened to course down his cheeks. “You’re the victim here and we’re going to show it. I promise we will.”

“I know you’ll try.”

“No Merlin, we _ **will.**_ You were assaulted and you were framed. We will find a way to prove this Merlin. I swear it. And Arthur knows you, he loves you. He’s just being blinded by wanting to make his father happy, his guilt that his father’s been alone for the last thirty years making him act more moronic than normal.

“The surveillance hard drive for the CCTV has been tampered with. Uther will propose that Percy did it to protect me, that because of our friendship he erased the footage of me entering Catrina’s office. Rather than the fact that I never actually went near her office.”

“Trust in Lance, Merlin.” She tightened her grip. “He’s an excellent lawyer.” Pulling back to take Merlin head in her hands and pressing a kiss to his forehead, she asked, “It’s late, do you want to stay here?”

Summoning up a smile for her, Merlin declined. He’d only toss and turn on their couch, feeling taunted by the couples happiness as they lay together in their bed down the hall. He’d rather be at home, where he could mindlessly watch whatever shit was on TV at 2am without fear of waking someone. Gwaine slept like the dead. Hunith was arriving in the morning and he’d need to collect her from the station which was closer to his own flat than here.

Heading to the hallway they said their goodbyes, Merlin bundling up against the cold outside, though he was unable to do anything about the cold that had filled him. Lance popped his head out of their little study, phone still to his ear, though he mouthed his goodbye and a promise it’d be fine. At Merlin’s subdued nod, he disappeared into the study.

“You’ll still come by on Christmas won’t you? With Gwaine and your mother?” Gwen asked as she opened the door. “It’ll just be the four of us, we can all have a drink or a game or something.”

Merlin suspected he wouldn’t be in the mood for either but he agreed. Gwaine would never shut up about it if he found out and Hunith would want to meet his friends. What was left of them anyway.

Gwen gave Merlin one last hug and a kiss to his cheek as he departed, feet dragging as he moved to the stairs.

*** *** ***  
‘ _Great, time to play Happy Families with Catrina,’_ thought Arthur as he unpacked the boot of Uther’s car, slinging the strap of his holdall over his shoulder. At the sound of gravel crunching under tires, he grabbed up the bags Uther had left for him to hump in and turned to greet Morgana.

“Hey,” she called as she climbed out of her car, an ancient Saab Uther had offered to replace multiple times. “Want some help?” She gestured at the bags weighing down as she leant back across the driver’s seat to pull her own bag out. Morgana was the only woman, the only _person_ Arthur knew who actually could fit thirty different outfits and toiletries into one bag. Including changes of shoes. However the gift bags of presents were separate.

Gravel scrunching under her heels, she kissed his cheek and took a few bags from his unresisting fingers, squaring her shoulders as she nudged him towards the door.

“You ready?”

“Do I have a choice?” He asked as he reached the steps.

Morgana frowned. “Not quite the resounding cheer I was hoping for.” Arthur elbowed her gently. “For Camelot!”

“That’s better!”

Making their way to the door, they passed a Christmas lights display of truly ostentatious and showy heights. Arthur grimaced at the sight, blinking against the lights.

“Classy,” muttered Morgana under her breath.

He may have left Arthur to carry the luggage but Uther had at least left the door ajar, allowing Arthur to kick it open with one foot, dropping his burden just inside, shifting aside to allow Morgana in as well. It was only then that he caught sight of what Catrina had been up to during her two days alone ‘recovering from her ordeal’.

The foyer was an eyesore; gaudy to the extreme with all the bunting and swaths of satin that Catrina had insisted upon for the wedding, the stairway acting as her aisle. Morgana rolled her eyes as she took in the votives that had been lined up along either side of the hallway and up either side of the main stairway, candelabras stationed at top and bottom and circled around the foyer. In the draft from the door every candle flickered, the lights glowing strong again once

Morgana nudged it shut.

“What do you think?”

Arthur turned and glanced over his shoulder. “It’s, uh, something…”

Catrina came out of Uther’s study, her fiancée following, Uther’s hand resting somewhere Arthur didn’t want to have to think about, Catrina’s tight dress showing off her figure.

“Well, don’t you think this is all so wonderful?” Catrina motioned to the stark white carpet draped down the stairway leading to the bower of ivy and mistletoe where they would take their vows. “It’s exactly how I wanted it.” She turned to Uther, eyes soft. “Thank you.”

“For you, my love , it's an honour. I only wish your father could be here, share the day.”

“My father often spoke of you, Uther, and so highly.” Catrina laid a hand gently on Uther’s arm, smiling up at him.

“And I will remember him always.”

Attempting to stave off another wave of nausea, Arthur interjected, aiming to curry favour whilst cutting the revolting show short. “I'm sorry I didn't get the chance to meet him.”

Catrina’s face lit up. “I'm sorry too. He would so like to have met you but sadly that is not the case. For the House of Tregor is no more.”

“Don’t say that Catrina; it lives on in you.” Oh how Arthur’s plan had backfired; he’d only made it worse.

“I only wish that were true.”

“It is, my love. Your courage, your modesty…you are as you always were, ever since you were a child.”

“Ah, I fear I am much changed since then, my dear.”

“Oh, yes, it's true. You are far more beautiful now.” Sappy Uther was possibly the most disconcerting thing Arthur had experienced, his father’s eyes wide, soft as he gazed at Catrina, linking their hands together in order to lift her hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to her knuckles as he stared into her eyes.

It was all just too much, to watch Catrina fake what he truly felt for Merlin, to witness this mockery of love. Not to mention his father’s behaviour was bile inducing. He bent to retrieve his bags, the handles of gift-bags digging into his palms. “I'm sorry, it’s been quite a hard day at the hospital. If you'll excuse me, I’ll just have a lie down before dinner.”

“Of course. We’ll need you wide awake for the rehearsal tomorrow and Carol Service at Saint Michael’s.” Oh God, did his father expect him to participate in this freak show? And the carol service was like having someone scrape knives across a plate with a melody of scrapping nails down a chalkboard. ‘Oh what fun it is to spend time with trolls’.

“Arthur.” Uther dismissed his son with a nod. “Take the back stairs, I don’t want anything to spoil Catrina’s hard work.” Arthur stifled a snort. Catrina had likely lifted nothing more than a coffee cup and a clipboard for the past few days but he smiled nonetheless and nodded in return.

“I should retire myself.” Morgana didn’t wait for the dismissal, simply gathered up her bag, and the presents she bought, diverting with Arthur to place them under the enormous fir in the lounge and making their way up to their adjacent rooms. Locking her bedroom door behind her and dumping her bag onto her bed as she passed, Morgana knocked on the adjoining door, Arthur instantly allowing her entrance and gratefully accepting the chocolate bar she offered.  
*** *** ***  
Hours later Morgana pulled out her phone and rapidly dialed.

“Hello?”

“Gwen?”

“Morgana, are you alright? Has anything happened?” The high pitch and volume of her friends worry caused Morgana to pull the phone away from her ear, quickly turning the volume down on her mobile, quickly looking around her, even though she knew she was alone, locked in her room’s en-suite. She felt ridiculously like she was some double-agent in a spy movie. She really didn’t want to be the one that got killed because they felt too safe.

“Don't worry, I'm alright. We all got here safe. You should see the place Gwen…It’s so…you can’t buy class. How much of Uther’s money she must have already spent on this wedding….It’s like a wedding dress shop exploded all over the house. Not just the rooms that’ll be used, but everywhere.” Morgana shook her head. She’d never been surrounded by more satin and taffeta in her life, and everything was white; she was terrified of spilling anything. It was reminding her of how her father used to make her drink Ribena only in the kitchen lest she spill the stuff. “How's Merlin?”

“If Arthur figures this out, if he comes back and begs forgiveness like he’s never begged before, he’ll be fine.”

“Then he'll be fine.”

“And then I’m going to knee Arthur in the balls.” Morgana was shocked at her normally placid friend’s anger but she smiled.

“I mean it, you can stop smiling. I’m going to cause him so much hurt for making me keep this from Merlin.”

“I know you do. Trust me, I’ll be next in line. Then Gwaine. But actually, Arthur doesn’t know you know. This is all me asking you to keep it secret.”

Silence met her confession.

“Kicking you in the groin will still hurt you.” Morgana winced; Gwen was hard to rile up but once she was there it was unwise to bet against her.

“Does Lance know?”

“I swore Morgana,” now she sounded insulted and pissed at her.

“I know, I know. I’m sorry. I’m just-”

“Stuck in the country with the Stepford almost-wife, her possibly murderous lover, a bewitched Uther and a heartbroken Arthur’?”

Morgana found herself nodding, and sucked on her teeth. “Yeah, pretty much. And after dinner she’s revealing my Maid of Honour dress. I dread to fucking think…it better not be pink. I refuse to even pretend I’ll wear it, if it’s pink.”

Gwen ignored her attempt at a joke. “Don’t do anything stupid Morgana.”

“We’re running out of time, there’s only, what? Two and a half days to the wedding. We’ve got to find something. Or have Uther find something. But they think we don’t know. They’ll slip up.”

“God, I hope so, we really need you guys to find some evidence. Otherwise we don't stand a chance.”

“Thanks, Gwen.” Morgana clicked her tongue. “No pressure or anything there. Uther can’t see it, doesn’t see it yet. He's too stubborn. And infatuated.”

Abruptly changing the subject, thinking of the broken man that had left her flat, Gwen asked, “What do you think of Arthur’s keeping it from Merlin? Why is he-”

“The same reason we are. Merlin. Arthur may be acting like he doesn't care, but... he wouldn't be here if he didn't. Same as me. I just need you took after Merlin.”

“Stay safe, Morgs. Please stay safe.”

**** **** ***

Merlin’s stomach roiled at the aroma of melted cheese and grease that assaulted him when he opened his front door to see Gwaine stretched across the sofa, slice of pizza in hand.

“You want?” Gwaine asked as he chewed. Merlin spared a second to wonder if the flock of women that were always lining up for a shot at Gwaine would still find him so attractive once they caught sight of his eating habits.

Not stopping, Merlin just shook his head, picking his way through the detritus of beer cans and pizza boxes that littered the front room towards the hall.

“I’ll make you a sandwich then,” Gwaine called out, the creak of a chair suggesting he was getting up to do just that, in blatant disregard of Merlin’s unenthusiastic reply, but anything else he said was cut off by the slam of Merlin’s room door.

He didn’t bother with the light switch, the light spilling in from under the door more than enough. Undressing, he let his jacket slide to the floor, leaving it where it landed, jumper and tee-shirt following after. He took a little more care with his jeans, removing his wallet and slapping it down onto his bedside table along with his mobile and pager before stepping out of the denims and kicking them towards the end of the bed.

He hadn’t a clue why he’d hooked his pager into his belt; suspended, without pay. Nobody was going to be calling him in. He should probably get used to not needing to carry his pager everywhere. Ever again.

Clad in his boxers, Merlin made his way to the bathroom, blinking rapidly burning eyes stinging from the brilliance of the ceiling light. All he needed was to get to the bathroom, piss and if he’s able to stay awake long enough, brush his teeth.

“Roast beef?” Gwaine yelled at the sound of Merlin’s door opening, determined to get Merlin to eat something, the crashing sounds of indicating he was taking on his task with gusto.

“Brushin’ ma teef,” Merlin contradicted, voice barely loud enough to hear himself.

Merlin was pretty impressed that he managed not only to piss and brush his teeth but also a perfunctory scrub at his face, washing at least some of the days grime from his skin, fighting to avoid his own reflection, well aware of what he looked like, of the bags beneath his eyes, the bruising and red eyelids. It was a wonder that Gwen hadn’t bundled him into bed when she’d seen him, but maybe that was why she’d looked so pinched. He didn’t doubt she believed him, but he had heard her first reaction, the _‘why would Merlin want to do that?’_ speaking volumes, so different to Gaius’ and Gwaine’s ‘Merlin would never do that.’ But if he let himself think himself into knots running headlong down that path he’d never escape.

Back in his room, he found Gwaine had left a cheese salad sandwich beside his wallet, a spoonful of Branston pickle detectable from the door. Ignoring the food, Merlin sat on the edge of the bed, propping his elbows on his knees, head lolling low from exhaustion, bobbing as he fought off sleep. Sleep where Arthur still loved him, really loved him, trusted him, could still bear to look at him, touch him.

But it was no good; he began to list to the side and he gave in, head just reaching the pillow. He used the last of his strength to heft his legs onto the bed, tugging the duvet over himself, grunting when he met resistance due to his partially lying atop it.

The next morning the sandwich was gone replaced by a stack of toast waiting outside his door, already cold.  
**** ****  
For the first time in his life, Merlin was not reliant on the many alarm clocks strewn around his room. For a moment after waking, he remained in that half-asleep stage, a few blissful seconds before true consciousness descended, slamming him back into the reality that when he reached out, his hands would encounter only cold sheets and empty arms.

When he rolled out of bed exhausted and miserable, he stepped over the toast and walked down the hallway, banging on Gwaine’s door as he passed, heading straight to the kitchen and the allure of coffee. When Gwaine hadn’t appeared by the time the coffee was percolating, and stomach churning at the idea of making any food, Merlin went back and knocked again, and against his better judgement, opened the door to peer in. When had Gwaine left? And why hadn’t he heard?

Walking back into the kitchen he made up his coffee and reached for the milk, encountering an eye-wateringly bright post-it attached to the bottle.  
 _‘Gone to pick your ma up from the station. We’ll go to Tesco after.’_

Was it already the 23rd? He hadn’t cleaned up, he hadn’t bought in food, hadn’t wrapped the stack of remaining presents that sat beside his bed. He’d need to change his linen so his mum could have a clean bed. But he’d start with sloshing milk into his mug and drinking his coffee.

An hour and a half later when a laughing Gwaine banged his way through the front door, arms filled with carrier bags and what Merlin knew to be his mother’s suitcase, the flat was about acceptable, Gwaine’s magazines relegated to his room, the kitchen and bathroom sparkling and Merlin’s room tidy enough that he knew his mother wouldn’t get that look on her face.

“I love your mum,” his roommate announced, carefully dropping Hunith’s bag onto the sofa and hauling the others into the kitchen, piling them on countertops and the table.

“Where is my mum?” Merlin poked his head out the door but she wasn’t in the hallway either.

“Oh, down at the car saying goodbye to Gwen.” At Merlin’s quizzical look he explained. “I didn’t want to disturb you and I knew we had no food so I asked to borrow Gwen’s car but she wouldn’t let me have it unless she drove so we went and got your mum and she knew you would have forgotten to get stuff so she’d made a list on the train.” Gwaine started unpacking by selecting a bag at random and tipping it upside down, and sorting it into piles.

“Let me help,” Merlin dove forward to grab his friend’s arm as he reached for a bag that sounded like it had glass in it. I’ll sort, you place.”

“Merlin!” Hunith swept into the kitchen and caught her son up in a hug, her arms still the most comforting place Merlin knew, the smell of her hair and laundry powder, his favourite thing in the world. The world was a huge and terrifying place, but in his mother’s arms he was always safe. Even as he held his mother tight, a part of him grieved for Arthur having never known such security.

“I’ve just had a very eventful morning with Gwaine and Gwen.” There was amusement in her tone and she clearly had taken to Merlin’s friends that she had heard so much about. “They’ve told me all about what happened with that Tregor woman.” Merlin tensed, clutching his mother closer. “My son would never do such a thing. Not my son. So we will prove it.” She relaxed her hold but kept him close, hands moving in long sweeping strokes down his back as though to soothe him as she felt him stiffen.

From the corner of his eye, Merlin could see Gwaine listening, leaning against the counter, shopping forgotten behind him, hands flexing and relaxing as he took the moment in.

“Arthur is…he doesn’t…You need to give him a little time.”

Merlin drew back to refute her, though his mother didn’t let him get far, small hands clasping his face. “I know how you spoke of him, especially when you first met, of his pride.” She shook her head. “He’s confused, and he feels that to choose you would be to deny his father.

“You’re two sides of the same coin, so terribly alike. He cannot hate you any more that you can hate him right now.”

“How do you know I don’t ha-”

“I’m your mother.”  
*** *** ***  
The sign was covered over, the red ‘CANCELLED’ blaring its message brightly against the white pin board. Despite his father’s genuine sigh of disappointment, Arthur was thrilled; the church was always freezing cold, the carols always the same every single year, sung in the same order, with the same soloists and the same readings. Stamping his feet, he grimaced as Uther still tried the door anyway, relief warming him despite the drizzle as it remained firmly shut.

Catrina had hurt her ankle that morning and had thus managed to wheedle her way out of this particular Pendragon tradition, instead able to remain at the house, no doubt enjoying the lack of a cappella and roaring fire.

 _‘Or more likely,_ ’ thought Arthur as he turned back towards the car, _‘quickly evaluating the worth of the antiques and heirlooms within the house.’_

“Well, that’s that then.” Morgana announced, pulling her car keys back out of her purse. “Explains why the parking was so easy anyway.”

“I checked the website. It made no mention of this.” Uther reluctantly made his way back down the path, Morgana and Arthur following in his wake, both sure that the older man was writing a letter of complaint in his head and upon return to the house, would shut himself away in his study for an hour while he fine-tuned and perfected it. Morgana’s mind just boggled at the idea of a church having a website, though she didn’t know why. There was no reason for a church not to.

Merry Fucking Christmas.

For a heartbeat, just as he reached the car door, Arthur let himself imagine what it would be like to have gone to Merlin’s for Christmas; the no doubt mismatched ornaments, inappropriate jokes and presents from Gwaine, far too much wonderful food made under the watchful eye of Hunith, who would run the kitchen like a military manoeuvre, bullying her flock of ‘children’ into peeling and cutting and prepping.

It must be nice.

Another thing that he was going to lose out of loyalty to his father. The only similarity between that Christmas and the Pendragon’s was that the house would be warm. Uther had professionals come into the country estate in early November to plan and construct that year’s theme. From late November on, a team of decorators would swarm over the house and grounds, never the same ornaments or colours twice. No home-made ornaments or childhood atrocities made of pipe-cleaners and lollipop sticks that were nevertheless loved and given pride of place on the tree, no clumping of lights or tinsel. Everything was picture perfect. Literally. In early December Uther and Arthur would pose for that year’s card, with the addition of Catrina in this one. She’d wanted input on the card, choosing the theme: Royalty. She’d wanted thrones, for herself and Uther. Arthur had been relegated to standing behind them both and to the side, appearing more like a put upon footman than the Prince.

And that’s all it boiled down to; a façade, a shallow image that Uther ruthlessly maintained.

Arthur hated it. The best Christmas he remembered was when he was six; he’d gotten up far earlier than Uther allowed and after being told to go back to bed, he’d snuck downstairs and selected just one present to open early. Just as he finished re-wrapping it and stowed in back under the tree he’d been caught out of bed and his punishment had been to eat Christmas dinner with the staff. It’d been loud and fun, everyone wearing their paper hats from crackers Father never let him have, telling terrible jokes and eating second and third helpings of everything, even pudding. His hours below-stairs had been the best of the season, though he’d been careful not to allow Uther to know.

Sliding into the backseat, Arthur reflexively accepted Morgana’s purse as she passed it back to him to avoid getting smacked in the head by it, looking up to catch her small smile in the rear-view mirror. Clearly she hadn’t been looking forward to this either. As she pulled away, rear tires skidding slightly on the icy road, Uther began to drum his fingers on the dashboard.

“I want to stop in the village; surely the flower shop will be open. I can get Catrina something to cheer her up. Poor thing.” Arthur suspected the florist would be long closed but the proprietor lived upstairs and what Uther wanted, he got, no matter how much money he had to throw at it.

“I do hope she’ll be able to walk down the aisle the day after tomorrow,” Uther mused. “I cannot imagine why she needed to climb up for that book, I would have gotten in for her if she’d asked, and now she’s laid up with a sprained ankle.”

“What do you think would be most elegant, Morgana?”

Staring out into the gloom, headlights glinting off banks of snow as she negotiated the narrow roads, tires not gripping due to the rain and ice, Morgana didn’t spare Uther a glance. “For what?”

“The flowers for my flower.” Morgana’s eyes widened in the rear-view mirror, her hands clenching on the wheel and from his seat Arthur could see the tick in her jaw where she was trying to repress a smile. Or a snort of derision. Knowing his friend, she was probably also literally biting her tongue to avoid saying something to wake Uther’s ire, Arthur rolled his eyes and mimed vomiting.

The detour into the village took some time what with the weather and having to wake the florist who was as annoyed about the situation as Arthur and Morgana. It was an hour after leaving the church before Morgana pulled into the long drive at last. The house was lit up like, well, a Christmas tree, all the lights blazing into the dark; clearly Catrina had no worries about paying the electricity bill that quarter. It was hardly as if she would be moving around the house much and yet almost every room was illuminated.

The time outside had cleared Arthur’s head and as he stepped through the heavy oak doors, the scent of all the flowers, the multitude of burning candles, Catrina’s cloying perfume and something…something Arthur recognized but couldn’t place, curled up into his nose, the headache following only moments behind.

Distant voices drifted down the hallway from the living room but Arthur’s attention was drawn to the door of his father’s study. In his entire life he had never seen that door left open. Be the study occupied or not, unless there was someone actually crossing the threshold, the door was firmly shut. And he’d watched as Uther locked it up tight seconds before they’d all left for the service.  
But now the door gaped open, though Arthur couldn’t see inside beyond the shaft of light the candles allowed to see if anyone was in there. He turned to Morgana, who frowned at the study door before her eyes widened at the implications.

“Catrina?” she mouthed, jerking her head towards the living room, glancing to where Uther was shutting the door.

“Has to be,” Arthur whispered back. “Wonder if she found what she was looking for.” Not waiting for Uther to finish taking off his coat given he seemed to be refusing to put down the vase of flowers to do so, the pair made their way through the foyer and into the hall, Morgana on her tiptoes to avoid making any noise..

“My plan to undermine Arthur is underway.” Catrina’s tone was delighted, a soft giggle dancing on the air, and Arthur’s stomach dropped whilst his heart leapt.

This could be it; this was what he’d been hoping for. “Insinuations about his choice of boyfriend, his choice of friends, his judgement. Soon Uther will detest the sight of his own son. Alone, Arthur is more likely to sign up for the exchange. With your guidance in his ear, my love.”

Arthur and Morgana crept forward quietly, hoping that Uther would catch them up, that he’d hear this. Catrina was facing the entryway, both hands filled with papers, no doubt from his father’s study, and she was reading them over the shoulder of a man as he kissed along her collarbone, fingers trailing through her hair. A dark haired man. That he recognised.

The sound of the vase shattering as it hit the polished stone floor behind Arthur was like thunder, crystal shards firing out like shrapnel.  
*** *** ***  
The clink of a teaspoon against mug was oddly comforting, the sound of Hunith stirring her tea precisely three times after adding her sugar reassuring in a way Merlin couldn’t explain. As she placed his mug in front of him, his mother ducked to press a kiss to his hair. Having her presence all day had been unbelievably reassuring for him; she never strayed too far, but never hovered and had kept him busy all day with Christmas preparations, decorating the flat with all the ornaments she had brought with her from home, every embarrassing school project from pre-school giving Gwaine a good laugh which periodically set Merlin off as well though it felt strange to be laughing given the circumstances.

“Now,” Hunith rummaged in the cupboard under the stove and brought out a chopping board, removing a knife from the drawer and plopped both in front of Merlin before she settled into a chair beside him, “You and Gwaine can help me prepare dinner, lots of things to chop and top and tail and peel. God knows what you boys have been eating, but I suspect,” she stared at Merlin, “that it comes in a pot, ready for boiling water or take-away.”  
*** *** ***  
As the noise rang through the house, Arthur first thought was that the bower or the Christmas tree had crashed down but nothing so metaphorical as he saw Morgana side step the puddle. The silence that followed was deafening, as if the blanket of snow outside had somehow muffled all sound within the house and Arthur became strangely aware of sweat beading on his skin from the heat of the fire, a trickle slipping down the channel of his spine, seeping into his shirt.  
This was everything he’d hoped for, to be able to literally just _show_ his father what was happening and it was his worst nightmare. He could feel Uther’s presence behind him, smell his cologne and the scent of snow-wet wool, feel his stuttered breath on his neck. He’d do anything to save Uther from this pain, but it was the only way.

A pang of guilt stabbed into his gut. He’d caused Merlin this sort of pain. He had failed Merlin, he could see how Agravaine was looking at him, at the contempt and disgust, his amusement at the trio’s confusion, his enjoyment of Arthur’s pain despite having been caught red-handed. Catrina seemed uncaring of her undress, making no move to fix her clothing as she stared at Uther, her eyes opening wide, gaze turning soft as she turned her attention to Uther, what Arthur was now sure was a far too rehearsed expression, designed solely for the intention of conning idiots like Uther. Like him. We’re he and Uther really that moronic? Did they trust simply on the basis of chromosomes and not actions?

Morgana was silent, standing just to Arthur’s side, her closest hand nudging against his where it hung lax by his side, brushing her simple comfort across his knuckles, her expression glacier cold, fury raging in her green eyes, though there was triumph too, a cold joy that came from avenging her friend and his reputation.

Uther was the first to break, his voice low and furious but also confused. With even a quick glance Arthur could tell the war raging in his father between heart and head, the logic of what he’d seen and heard, what others had told him, clashing with how he felt, or thought he felt for Catrina.

“What is going on here?”

It was pretty obvious what was going on; Agravaine was shirtless, his back covered in score marks no doubt from Catrina’s acrylics, his lips red and bitten, Catrina’s flush less from the warmth of the fire and more from stubble burn. The papers, definitely stolen from the study, were not only gripped tight in her hand, but scattered across the sofa, around wine glasses on the coffee table and across floor. The closest document Arthur could identify was the title deed to the manor itself, others appeared to be contracts.

“Merlin was right,” Arthur’s own voice was flat, accusation flung at his father, at Catrina, at the man he’d considered a beloved uncle. “That’s what’s happening here. Merlin stood in front of you and told the truth and you sent him away and called him a liar.” Arthur wasn’t even able to feel a moment’s satisfaction as he watched Catrina and Agravaine’s eyes widen with fear and guilt for a split second. He thought that when Merlin was proven truthful that he’d feel vindicated on Merlin’s behalf, relieved, even angry that his father had had to find out like this. But there was just nothing, just exhaustion and a feeling of needing a shower.  
Uther appeared confused, almost as if he had no memory of only a few days ago, seeming hopeful that this was all an illusion. “Catrina? What kind of trickery is this?”

Catrina rolled her eyes, unrepentant in being found out, flicking her hair over her shoulder, dropping the papers clutched in her hands and smoothing her dress back into place.

“God you are stupid.” She shook her head, eyes rolling. “How I've suffered these last weeks. Allowing you to touch me! Having to share a bed with you!”

“You make me sick,” Uther snarled at his fiancée, gesturing at Agravaine. “You let him touch you? You’re disgusting.”

“Likewise,” Catrina retorted. “Agravaine is very understanding,

“If I can put up with your fumbling pawing at me, then I can certainly handle Agravaine.” Catrina leered at her lover, “And there is so much more to handle.”  
Bile rose into Arthur’s throat at that but he swallowed it back.

“You really are repulsive aren’t you?”

“Is that any way to treat your dear stepmother?”

What happened next was so fast, so furious that Arthur was unsure how his father had crossed the room so fast, how he was capable. Uther sprang forward, pushing the chaise out of his way as he reached for Catrina, who shrieked in alarm, hands coming up to protect herself, but she couldn’t stop . She was caught by the shoulders and pushed down onto the sofa, Uther’s arms bracketing her body, holding her down as he got up into her face.

“You threaten my son?” Uther’s face was contorted with fury, and though Catrina shrank back as far as she could into the plush cushions and all the blood drained from her face she had no escape. “Was that the plan? To seduce me into disowning my only child and if I didn’t you were set to have him killed?’

“I just needed him out of my way, it was your dear brother-in-law that wanted that honour. Having to put up with the whiny brat for thirty years, he was quite looking forward to it.”

Arthur turned to his uncle. “And you, how could you? We’re your family.” Agravaine smirked though he was still white as a sheet, chin stuck out pugnaciously.

There was a brief flash of contempt, a twisted expression before an unattractive unfamiliar smirk spread across the man’s face.

“Times have changed, your Highness. Loyalty is bought by the highest bidder.” His upper lip curled into a sneer as he glowered at his nephew.

“You have no idea what it cost me to care for you, to be close to you, advising you. Nothing but a clingy whelp of a child. The bastard child Uther so desperately wanted that killed my sister. It should have been you. It was going to be you.” Agravaine spat the words at Arthur like a curse. Arthur expected the words to hurt, but he felt an overwhelming sense of detachment, as though his uncle was yelling at someone else, as though the memories of every happy moment with this man weren’t being violated and torn to shreds. Surely he should feel more than the physical sensations of his nails biting deep into his palms, and the weight of fatigue. What emotional reaction he had was solely over the treatment of Merlin, not his own. He deserved this, had this coming for how he had doubted Merlin.

“And Merlin?” asked Arthur, voice deceptively calm though he shook from fury.

“He was…convenient.” Catrina offered.

“It was him or Gaius, and he is so pretty, isn’t he Arthur?” Agravaine goaded.

Arthur was moving before he’d even finished the thought to do so, three short strides taking him before his uncle, fist flying forward in an unrelenting, graceful arc, that terminated in the left side of Agravaine’s jaw, the smack of flesh on flesh, the wet slap of cheeks colliding with teeth making Morgana wince and Uther stand straight, staring at his son.

“That’s the best you’ve got?” Agravaine stumbled back, hand flying to his face as he spat blood and spittle onto the carpet. “Merlin not worth enough to you-”

Before anyone could stop him, Arthur had both hands wrapped around the man’s neck, palms locking tight as he squeezed. The smirk fell from his face as it began to redden, his hands slapping against Arthur’s straining arms, trying fruitlessly to free himself, jerking in his nephew’s hold, getting nowhere.

The thought of everything this bastard had said to him, of the way he’d manipulated an affection starved child and a lonely teenager and now an adult fool, drove a knife into his guts, leaving him hollow and brittle, like he’d smash apart if he let go. He felt drained by it, by being away from Merlin, like he was missing a part of himself that he couldn’t function without. He wanted Merlin beside him right now; he would be the only person who could make him stop, from becoming someone like Agravaine. Merlin would have made him be the bigger man

And he’d doubted Merlin, doubted that his uncle could be involved, that he was little more than a pawn in Catrina’s game. He’d believed in the man his uncle had projected, he’d believed him an innocent in this situation, just like Merlin. He’d been so gung-ho about saving his uncle as well as his father. And here he was, a fucking fool with nothing. Had he really been so desperate for love, for a kind word that any attention from this man was worth it?

“Arthur.” He felt someone touch his shoulder, strong and sure unlike the pitiful slaps Agravaine was delivering to his forearms. “Arthur, no. We’ve proven them liars, Merlin will be cleared. Don’t become them.” Morgana’s voice was low, soothing, aimed only for him as she stepped backwards and tugged on his shoulder to encourage him to go with her. His arms were starting to vibrate ever so slightly from the strength of his hold, as if he might break apart any second.

“Just let go Arthur.” For just a heartbeat, Arthur tightened his fingers further, forcing his thumb into Agravaine’s windpipe. That had his eyes bulging, dark brows furrowing as he gaped for breath before Arthur deigned to lessen the pressure, to allow Morgana’s hand to break the hold and tug his hands away and he let go, allowing her to step between the two men and pull himinto her embrace, to feel her soft hand slip into hiss as her other arm held him close.

“Squeeze on me if you need to,” she whispered.

Arthur took a breath and waited until he felt steady. Over Morgana’s shoulder he saw Uther, his father’s features immobile as he watched his son take comfort from someone else. His eyes met Arthur’s and the young man realised he was looking into a mirror image, at a man destroyed at the loss of love, by how the darkness left behind when that sunshine was taken away could become an unfillable void.

“Why?” He breathed. “Why was my death going to make anything better?”

Agravaine glowered, chin cocked out in aristocratic fashion, proud even in defeat. “You,” he spat, pointing at Uther, “caused me to-I buried my sister and my brother because of you Pendragon men that killed them.”

Guilt hit Arthur like a brick, grief over the loss of people he’d never known.

“That would be touching,” Morgana hissed, “if you were weren’t motivated by greed instead of grief. You could have had Arthur killed at any time, beaten to death outside the hospital…shot in a carjacking…” Her head tilted and her hand tightened on Arthur’s. “Mordred.” She breathed. “Was that you?”

Catrina’s lack of response was answer enough and she looked shocked as Agravaine answered. “He wasn’t there to kill Arthur. We needed to know Uther’s reaction to a threat to Arthur. To know how hard we had to try.”

Arthur was unable to process that someone truly hated him enough to kill him. Yes, there were many at the hospital that would threaten it, though less since Merlin’s arrival but to know his own family had paid a stranger… He found himself focusing on Morgana’s hand in his, at the signet ring she wore on her pinky with her father’s initials, the thin gold band of her mother’s wedding ring around her middle finger. What she’d had was a family. Love and respect and protectiveness binding them together. Not this ugly, torn bastardisation with its hurt and pain, secrets and lies. His family was in his arms, in rooms across Camelot city. Not in the man smirking before him.

“The money was a perk, I will admit.”

As Agravaine continued to speak, hatred and vitriol replacing the charm of the previous thirty years, Arthur zoned out. It all receded, the drone of Agravaine’s voice, the crackling of the fire, the scent of wood smoke and roses, the warmth of the room, even the comfort of Morgana’s hand.

All, all was gone.

The only thing he could see was the abhorrence in Agravaine’s eyes, but though his mouth moved it was Merlin’s voice he heard, clear as crystal.  
 _‘I need you to listen to me Arthur, I think there’s something odd about Catrina and Agravaine…’_

_‘It wasn’t your fault. You were a baby. You didn’t kill her._

Merlin’s voice within Arthur’s head had one benefit; it drowned out the shrill wailing as Catrina began to scream at Uther and Agravaine both.

Her gaze darted back and forth between Arthur and Agravaine and Uther, face pale beneath the makeup. Up close, unmasked, she wasn’t nearly as attractive as she appeared, her beauty little more than a veneer. “You were both so easy…” she trailed off, hand covering her mouth as Arthur stepped closer and for the first time in his life he revelled in someone’s fear of him. For the first time he wanted a woman to be frightened of him.

“You almost ruined one of the greatest things that ever happened to me. I almost believed you and my uncle, I would have lost my father and because of what? A mother I’ll never know.” He turned to Agravaine, the man white as a sheet as his betrayal was uncovered but defiant, omnipresent smirk still apparent, eyes hateful, “And if she was anything like you, I’m almost grateful.

“Because it was always you.” Arthur cut across Agravaine, enough to make him shut his mouth.

“I always thought it was Father who blamed me, hated me, wished I’d died and not my mother,” Uther’s head snapped towards his son, horror writ across his face, regret in his eyes, “but it was always you.”

Agravaine’s sneer returned. “I had every right, you killed my sister.”

“I was a baby!”

Who’d grown up into a fool, as gullible and moronic as he used to tease Merlin. How long had his uncle despised his presence? His entire life? Had he plotted his revenge upon Arthur from the second Arthur drew breath and Ygraine lay still?

Merlin was right. Beautiful, idiotic, bumbling, gauche Merlin was right; Arthur didn’t deserve that. It wasn’t his fault his mother had struggled so long for a child. It wasn’t his fault she’d been so ill. It hadn’t been his fault that she went into pre-term labour and the car accident that killed her wasn’t his fault.

Agravaine had lost a sister, a sister he’d barely kept in touch with after her marriage to a man he despised, but Arthur had lost his mother. Agravaine had his memories of Ygraine’s voice, her laughter, the scent of her favoured perfume. Arthur had none of those, didn’t even know what his mother’s voice sounded like. All he had was one photograph, found by chance in a book in his father’s study, her smile as big as her belly, hands resting on her prominent bump, the inscription on the reverse reading _‘Ygraine and Rascal. Not long now.’_ All he truly knew of his mother was that she’d wanted him. Loved him.

“I didn’t know…that…you’re…” Uther stepped close to his son, blind to the rest of the room as he grasped heaving shoulders, fingers digging in as he stared into Arthur’s eyes, tears spilling down his cheeks.

“How could you-”

Arthur rushed to cut him off, unable to breathe, a crushing weight on his chest making him want to rip at his own ribs to free his lungs, the thought of listening to Uther’s stuttering, insincere apologies abhorrent.

“It’s oka-”

“It is not Arthur. It is not okay.” Uther’s gaze never wavered, boring into Arthur, not even blinking as he clutched his son.

“You are my son.” Uther cleared his throat. “I love you. I have watched you grow into a man your mother would be proud of. And that has been in spite of me,  
not because of me.”

“Father…” Arthur croaked, unknowing of what else to say, uncaring of the tears that formed in his eyes.

“I have never,” Uther pulled his son into his arms, “ever wished that you had not lived. You are my son, you are made of the greatest parts of your mother and I have always loved you.”

Arthur raised a hand to…pat his father on the shoulder or back. He had no memory whatsoever of his father ever holding him like this before. “You don’t need to say that.”

“I do.” Uther vowed. “You kept me alive, to see Ygraine every day in you. You are my greatest joy Arthur.”

Unused to such blatant shows of affection, greatly embarrassed both by his father’s expression and his own blooming joy at hearing his father’s love for him,  
Arthur cleared his throat. “I love you, Father. I always have.”

“Well, this is all _terribly_ touching,” Agravaine sneered, “but what do you really think is going to happen now? Hmmm? I witnessed young Pendragon’s boy assault Catrina, and now, Uther too has lost his temper and attacked his fiancée. Oh how the newspapers would love to hear about it.”

“Then I’ll just have to take them the video where you admit to fraud, larceny, and essentially plotted murder. I think the courts will adore them.” Morgana raised her right hand and presented her phone, the camera still recording. “I’m afraid the angle wasn’t too flattering, my dears,” she mocked at them, “might not want to indulge in any mince pies this season.”

“You spiteful bitch!” Catrina

“ _I’m_ spiteful?” Morgana laughed. “That’s rich. Did you see the monstrosity you were expecting me to wear to this goat-rope of a wedding?  
 _That’s_ spiteful!”

“Not to mention the plotting of my painful death,” added Arthur as Morgana span on her heel and left the room. Catrina struggled off the plush sofa and to her feet, slim arms shaking as she crossed to Agravaine, expecting to be welcomed into his arms but he turned away from her, disgust on his face.

“How quickly men do turn from you.” Uther sounded almost gleeful.

“Father, I expect Merlin to be re-instated immediately, with pay for the last few days, a formal public apology from you and a personal one. I want any record of this expunged from his file and you’re _incredibly_ lucky that he is not the litigious type.” He felt his lips turn up in a wry grin. “If he’ll listen to me, if he’ll hear it, you can come to The Smithy on Christmas Day and apologise. I trust you can handle them?” Arthur jerked his chin at the room’s other occupants.

Uther nodded gravely. “Oh yes.”

“However for you two,” Arthur’s smile was cold, hard, more a bearing of teeth at Agravaine and Catrina, “you, I shall encourage him to sue until the end of time. Assault, battery, sexual harassment. I’m sure we’ll find a whole host of other things. That should pay off his student loans and his mother’s mortgage. As well  
as, of course, the whole going to jail thing.”

“Get in the car, Arthur.” Morgana’s voice was hard as she stepped into the doorway, purse hung in the crook of her arm as she stalked over to the Christmas tree, her stiletto heels firing like gunshots against the wood and grabbed up a huge bundle of gift-bags, scooping up the flowers from the remains of the smashed vase and wrapping their dripping stems in her scarf and tucking them into her handbag. When she turned to see Arthur still standing in shock at the door, she scowled.

“Get in the fucking car.”

Grabbing a hold of a glass of red wine, Arthur followed her to the front door, stopping only to fling the glass and contents onto the pristine carpet on the stairs, the wine flowing like blood from a wound.  
***** ****  
Morgana had already threatened to turn the car around three times and they’d only been driving fifteen minutes. It wasn’t that he was worried, per se just…nervous. Or so Morganna would like to claim from his station surfing, seat adjusting, whistling and drumming his fingertips against the glass. Before he’d been so fucking blind, he’d wanted nothing more than to spend Christmas with Merlin, though in his perfect world it would have been only the two of them, twenty-four nudity and zero Brussel Sprouts. Not some buttock-clenchingly embarrassing confession and possible grovelling for forgiveness and a second chance.

All in front of Merlin’s family.

And Morgana.

“Fuck.” Arthur took a moment to admire how his breath misted on the inside of the car window as he swore, hand coming up to draw a sad face in the condensation with his forefinger before wiping it away with his palm.

“Stop smearing my windows,” Morgana chastised, reaching over to slap at his arm.

“Eyes on the road woman!”

“Oh shut up,” she ordered, “just sit there, be quiet and think about how you are going to clamber your pathetic little body out of the hole you dug with Merlin, that you managed to furnish, wallpaper and move into.”

“I didn’-”

“I will turn ar-”

“Alright, alright,” Arthur muttered, slouching deep into the seat, squeezing his feet up onto the dashboard in front of him, ignoring Morgana’s protests, resting his head against his knees.

What was he going to say? Sorry? That he was an idiot? That he didn’t deserve forgiveness? True, but not helpful in this particular scenario.

“Shit,” he snapped.

The pair lapsed into silence for a while, Arthur leaning his head against the window when he started to feel queasy. He told himself it was from having his head bowed like that in a moving car, but he’d never had car sickness before. He knew full well that it was about what he was trying to do. Trying to beg forgiveness from a man he loved, loved like he’d never thought was possible. He’d heard all the stories from his mother’s friends, about how in love his parents had been, how fiercely and passionately they adored each other. When he’d heard their tales, he’d not been surprised his father couldn’t show affection for him; if someone or something took away a love like that, he’d never forgive them. And it was his own fault he’d lost Merlin. Why didn’t he just tell Merlin he believed him, that he was trying to convince his father before it was too late? They could have been working together.

How could he expect Merlin to forgive him when he could never forgive himself for the pain he knew he was cause of? His lover had been the victim of assault, and Arthur had turned from him. The car was a warm little cocoon that kept him from having to face the reality of what was going to happen when they got back to the city, back to Merlin’s building.

Hearing the rhythmic tick of the indicator, Arthur’s stomach clenched and it felt like his heart was being squeezed in a vice. Crunch time. Shit.

Looking up, he realised they were still ten minutes away, and Morgana was pulling into a 24 hour petrol station. “What are you doing?” he spluttered as Morgana eased to a stop beside a pump and tugged the lever to release the latch on the fuel cap.

“I’m getting petrol. Which I should think was painfully obvious. Well, actually you’ll be getting petrol and I’ll be in there,” she gestured out the windscreen at the convenience store attached to the forecourt, “Finding a half-decent bottle of wine or two, some chocolates and flowers.” She frowned as she dug through her handbag for her purse. “If they have any left.” She dropped the bag back onto the floor of the passenger foot well.”

“Why?” Arthur objected.

“Because, if your father, like mine, had raised you properly, you would be aware that it is rude to turn up uninvited, and possibly unwanted-”

“Thanks for the support, by the way-” he scoffed.

“Especially at arse o’clock in the morning on Christmas Eve, without some sort of gift. And if Merlin does forgive you, then you’re still going to need Hunith to forgive you and it can’t hurt to start off on the right foot.”

“She likes me,” Arthur stated with all the conviction of a man who’d never met his lover’s mother but was convinced he was excellent with meeting the parents.

“Nooo. She _liked_ you. What Merlin told her of you. And then you broke her only child’s heart. Mothers, in general, take a dim view on that.” Morgana lectured. “Now, get out of my car, pick up the unleaded and fill the tank.” She reached over to pat Arthur on the cheek, “And if you’re good, I’ll buy you an ice cream.” She darted out the driver’s door before Arthur could retaliate and practically skipped across the forecourt to the automatic door, before she turned and glared at Arthur where he still sat in the nice, warm car. Begrudgingly he hauled himself out and started to pump the petrol, happily giving Morgana the finger when he heard her sarcastic praise just before the doors cut it off.

“At least this buys me more time.” He said to nobody in particular, listening for the clunk of the pump stopping. He busied himself with hooking the nozzle back into its pump and tightening the cap, slapping shut the little flap before turning and resting against the car, ignoring the chime of his phone receiving a text.

What was he going to say? What could he say?

By the time Morgana finally came back out she had three full shopping bags in one hand and a tray of coffee in the other, Arthur was no closer to an answer.

“You could help.”

“Yes. I could.”

And for the first time, he actually did, trotting over to the driver’s side and opening the rear door, relieving Morgana of two of the bags and stowing them in the foot-well before retrieving the last one and accepting a coffee, ignoring her surprised smile as he read the text that’d come through and dropped back into his seat.  
*** *** ***  
Arthur’s stomach seemed to clench exponentially as he strode purposefully towards Merlin’s door until he was quite sure he’d it’d consumed itself. Which at least meant he was less likely to vomit it up over Merlin’s shoes. He struggled to pull himself together. This wasn’t a good idea but it was the only way; he couldn’t leave Merlin believing Arthur had turned against him and that his career was over for even a second more than necessary and this hadn’t been a conversation for the phone. Even if he thought Merlin wouldn’t hang up on him.

The die had been cast. And now he had to live with the consequences.

Maybe he should have opened one of those bottles of wine that Morgana had bought; Dutch courage was better than none. He let Morgana knock on the door, standing a couple of feet back, slightly obscured in the shadows; he didn’t want Merlin to see him immediately and slam the door in his face, never to open it again. He could hear the laughter and revelry behind the door, the sounds of a happy family, despite the late hour.

It was Merlin who opened the door, looking worn and tired, his eyes deeply bruised but a smile on his face nonetheless.

“Morgana,” Merlin exclaimed, “What are you doing here?” Merlin followed the movement of Morgana’s eyes to the side and Arthur stepped out of the dark of the hallway and into the wedge of light spilling out of the door to the flat.

“Oh.” Arthur’s heart sank as Merlin narrowed his eyes, body going rigid as he stood barring the door. “Is this some sort of joke?”

“I just need to talk to you.”

Through the gap between Merlin’s body and the doorframe Arthur could see a woman he assumed was Merlin’s mother was busy in the kitchen, talking with Gwaine, slapping his hands with surprising speed and accuracy whenever the physiotherapist tried to sneak a bite of the food she was preparing. Until he caught sight of who was at the door. Vaulting off the countertop, he trotted to the door

“Don’t be rude Merlin, invite our guests in.” Gwaine shouldered past Merlin and reached for Morgana, slinking his arm around her shoulders and drawing her into the flat.

“Hunith, this is Morgana, and the Princess in the hallway is Arthur.”

“Arthur?” The man in question winced as crockery hit the floor, though from the dull thud of it, the item hadn’t broken. Hunith walked quietly into the room, her movements deliberate and slow, sizing up the man that’d broken her son’s heart but throwing a soft smile to Morgana, instantly recognising the woman that  
Merlin had so often spoken of, though she was even more beautiful than she’d thought and, from what she could glean from the hand swiftly offered and the smile returned and the flowers wine and chocolates proffered, a kind and thoughtful young woman. After meeting Gwen and Gwaine, she was grateful to see the friends that Merlin had made to be such sweet and pleasant people. Hunith took the gifts, and looking around desperately for somewhere to put them, placed them on the sofa behind her, barely taking her eyes off Arthur. He, however, she was unsure of.

“Thank you, Morgana, that was very sweet of you.”

“I, uh, I’m-”

“We’re sorry it’s so late. But Arthur here needs to explain a few things.”

“It’s over?” Gwaine asked, instantly getting the attention of Merlin and his mother.

“What?”

“I’ll let the Princess explain. He’ll do a good job of it.” Gwaine’s normally cheery expression turned steel as he looked at Arthur, stared at his friend. The promise of pain if Arthur fucked it all up hung like the sword of Damocles over his head.

“In fact ladies, there’s a stain in the hallway, just on the carpet near the stairs that I think looks like E.T and Merlin thinks looks like a blob. Would you care to be the judges?” Gwaine

“Um, are you going to help me exp-”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, it is your quest after all.” Gwaine slapped Arthur on the back as he passed, bowing to Morgana and offering his arm to her. “Milady, may I accompany you?” he asked. Morgana rolled her eyes but took the grasped Gwaine’s elbow, calling over her shoulder, “Don’t be an idiot Arthur.”

Cradling her son’s head between her hands, Hunith softly advised her son.

“At least hear him out, my boy, you both need at least that.” Drawing Merlin’s head close and rising onto her tiptoes, Hunith pressed a kiss to her son’s forehead, thumb rubbing over the mark to remove the impression of her lipstick left behind. “I know how much you love him, and even now I can see how he loves you; two sides of the same coin. Perhaps your place is by each other’s side. Perhaps now he is ready.” The trio left, the women throwing backwards glances over their shoulders as they left, Morgana’s left hand retrieving her phone from her pocket, no doubt firing a text to Gwen and Lance. Arthur didn’t know how much either of them knew but he did know that whilst they’d forgive him, they’d be pissed on Merlin’s behalf for a while.

“Do you want me to go?” Arthur asked, gesturing weakly at the door, desperate for Merlin to say no, terrified that he’d say yes. He knew he’d honour Merlin’s decision, but that didn’t mean he’d give up. He’d write Merlin a letter if he needed to.

“I want you to tell me why you’re here.”

This was stupid; he was invading what should have been a happy time. “I should go-”

“What. The. Fuck. Are. You. Doing. Here?” The expression on Merlin’s face was rapidly shifting from disbelief and curiosity to fury.

“I’m so sorry.” It was pathetic but it was pretty much all he could come up with to say. Maybe he really was as stupid as Morgana claimed; all that time during the drive and the best he could come with was ‘sorry’. He really wasn’t as good as thinking on his feet as he’d like to think.

Meeting Merlin’s eyes, looking into those eyes and seeing the pain and hurt and hate that he’d engendered was the hardest thing he’d ever done. Merlin’s frown was familiar and it felt so tragic to get nostalgic over a glower. It’d never been aimed at him with such power though.

“You’re sorry? I try to tell you about Catrina, about how strange it was about your father falling for her so quickly and you ignored me. I tried to explain about what they, what she and your uncle planned-they wanted to _kil_ l you Arthur. You believed that woman and _**you’re sorry?”**_ Merlin clenched and unclenched his hands, trying to take deep breaths.

“Please, please, let me try to explain. Please, Merlin.” He’d beg if he had to. On his knees.

Merlin narrowed his eyes and clenched his jaw, glancing around the room before sighing, grimacing as he nodded, as if it hurt to grant Arthur his opportunity.

“I don’t know how to start-”

Arthur knew what he wanted to say, what he wanted to explain and have Merlin understand. The actual words, however, those were escaping him, especially how to begin. And standing here, surrounded by Merlin, with the man he loved standing before him, face shuttered and eyes cold - He had done that. Him. And wasn’t that just the worst kind of power. He had the ability to make this gentle, strong, kind man look so jaded and dejected. He hadn’t done it on purpose but that made it so much worse; that he could, accidently, just by being stubborn and a blind fool he’d, without any effort, hurt this wonderful man.

“I am, as you so frequently remind me, an idiot.”

Arthur gathered himself together from the inside out and took a deep breath.

“I’ve done some fucked up things,” Arthur bit his lip at he shook his head, “nothing I’ve regretted like this.” He huffed out his breath before pinning Merlin with his gaze. “It’s not an excuse, but I was raised to believe in family above everyone else, to the exclusion of everyone else. That they were to be unconditionally trusted.” He shrugged, “I have so little family, my uncle Tristan died with my mother, Agravaine was my only link to her and Father has no siblings.”

Merlin’s heart ached with want to wrap his arms around those rounded shoulders, to lift that proud chin, press kisses into that tussled hair and lead Arthur to bed, take care of him, love him. He hated himself for it, wanting to comfort the man that’d broken him. He wanted to wrap himself around the man that stood before him, care for the lonely little boy he’d once been and whisper his love until it ran through his veins, undeniable and unquestioned.

But he couldn’t.

Not yet. Perhaps never again.

“He said he loved me, he was kind where father wasn’t-” Arthur’s gaze drifted aimlessly around the room, anything to avoid the hate in Merlin’s eyes; the old knitted blanket he loved that he suspected Hunith had made for her only child, the terrifying leaning tower of records beside Gwaine’s ancient player and Arthur’s university rowing team hoodie Merlin had assured Arthur he must have lost, the thieving wretch. It made him smile, the thought of Merlin keeping his clothes, wearing them.

 _‘Because it was all he had left, you fuckwit,’_ he reminded himself.

“But I know now…you were right. He hates me. He’s hated me my entire life-” he just choked off the sob that clawed up his throat, biting it back, swallowing it down. “My whole life he’s lied, looking for an opportunity, any opportunity to ruin me. He wants me dead.” He couldn’t stop it a second time, the sound ripped from him, eyes watering. “He would have killed me hims-” He clenched his jaw and stared at his shoes, burning eyes screwed shut against the tears as his chest heaved.

“You were right.”

As shock shot through his body, it occurred to Merlin that, despite all of the assurances of his friends and mother that it would all work out, he’d never expected it to, never expected to see Arthur again or hear those words; the underdog so rarely won the fight.

Merlin studied that beloved face; it was a mirror of his own, with hollows under the cheekbones, the normally tan skin ashen as though Arthur also hadn’t slept in  
days.

Arthur shook his head, expression angry, though not at Merlin. “I just…I’ve been a fool…” he spat the word, self-loathing dripping from his words, “All those years, all that time...I couldn’t face losing ano-” His hands came up, palms flat against his face, shielding himself from Merlin’s eyes.

Merlin ached to go to him, to cross the space between them but not yet. Arthur needed to finish, to lance the wound and be done; it couldn’t be left to fester, not like his own wounds, like Morgana’s. There couldn’t be any of this left between them if they were to be able to move past this.

Faced with the abject misery before him, Merlin never wanted to hurt something more, the bolt of fury and hatred he felt towards Agravaine terrifying in its intensity. He wanted to rip Agravaine apart, rend him limb from limb. He hated Uther for what he’d done. For leaving his son vulnerable to Agravaine’s deceit but it was Agravaine he wanted to destroy. Every line of Arthur’s body screamed the devastation he felt at the loss of the last link he had to his mother.

“I wish I could blame it all on Agravaine but-” Arthur shook his head, hands coming up to scrub at his hair, “but that’s not true. The decision to… the decision to  
keep it from you was mine alone. You would still have suspected he was a part of it all and I cou-”

He shrugged, shoulders feeling so heavy. “Even as I suspected Catrina I still thought he was innocent in it, needing saving from her. Just like Father.”

In a hoarse voice Merlin spoke again. “Do you have any idea, Arthur, any idea at all what the last few days have been like for me?” He swiped a hand over his eyes. “I lost my reputation, my job, my career, you. Do you have any idea what that’s been like for me?” He was yelling, uncaring of the early hour and the thing walls and the huddle of family outside the door.

The pain in Merlin’s voice, the pain in his own chest made it even harder for Arthur to breathe, to form words. “Yes, Merlin. Yes, I know. I lost you. I was at risk of losing my father. But I had to protect you, protect the both of you. This seemed the only way. Father,” he grimaced, “he might not have listened to anyone but I might have a hard head,” he tried for a smile but dropped it when Merlin didn’t respond. “I’m not totally stupid. I would do anything, anything to keep you safe.”

Merlin began to pace, shuttling back and forth from wall to TV, TV to wall and Arthur couldn’t help but notice that he stayed just out of reach.

“If I’d thought there was any other way-”

Merlin stopped, inches and miles away. He cleared his throat. “How long?”

Arthur didn’t bother to prevaricate or deflect. “When I saw her all over you. That they suspected you knew and were setting you up, thinking I’d be so blinded  
I’d follow wherever they led me. Our friends would naturally side with you, I’d be friendless, and broken-hearted, a ripe candidate for the exchange programme. Leaving Father vulnerable.”

“Excuse me?” Merlin’s voice was shrill, expression furious.

“You had no reason to…grope her. To want her. You’re gay Merlin. And you’re the most loyal person I’ve ever met. You’d never cheat on me. Not ever.”

“Good to know you at least got one thing right.”

“I deserve that.”

“Yeah.”

“The final straw was the necklace. Why would Catrina keep such a valuable item in an un-lockable office? And why would you steal it? Percy checked the old CCTV footage. She never wore it into or out of the building. There was no reason for you, for anyone to even know it was there.”

“So you knew, you knew that whole time your father was suspending me, planning to fire and blacklist me, call the fucking police to report me for sexual assault, you knew!” Merlin cocked his head to one side, licking his lips as his eyes roved over Arthur’s face. “That’s why you wouldn’t look at me.” Arthur stayed silent.

“Isn’t it, Arthur?”

“Yeah. You’d have known in a second, that I suspected something wasn’t right.”

“So if you knew-”

“Why didn’t I-?”

“You know what was the worst for me? You didn’t even let me explain. You didn’t give me the benefit of the doubt. You believed Agravaine when he told you lie after lie. I understand he is family-"

“Was.”

That gave Merlin pause, but only for a second. “If you say so. But Catrina? You’ve known her what, a couple months? You believed a near stranger over me, simply because she was a friend of you uncle and she made your father happy.”

Arthur waited, holding his breath, hands clenched.

“I didn’t. I swear to you I didn’t.”

“So you don’t trust me then.”

“I trust you with my life.”

“Just not my word. You started to believe me, what? Three days ago?”

“She made him happy,” Arthur didn’t have the energy to be ashamed or embarrassed by how desperate he sounded, that he couldn’t speak louder than a whisper.

“My entire life I’ve worked hard to make him proud, to make him happy and I’ve never managed. But she turned up and within days he’s smiling,” he seemed bemused by the idea of Uther showing joy. “I got…swept up in seeing him content. I stole so much of that away from him, how could I do it again?” He failed to stop the tears that trickled down his cheeks, dripping from his jaw. “How could I tell him it was all fake? He’d never forgive me and he’d never listen. He needed to see.” Arthur scrubbed his hands over his face, heels of his palms digging into his eyes as he tried to figure out how to explain.

“I…I was as concerned as you. Two weeks, they’d known each other and he was giving her my mother’s jewe-” He couldn’t finish that, the sight of Catrina wearing his mother’s necklaces had been hard enough. Uther had once shown the pieces to Arthur, told him that he had kept them for Arthur to give to his own bride. When Arthur had come out to his father, they’d been locked back into the safety deposit box they stayed in, resting against cold steel instead of warm skin. Arthur had hoped the one day, he’d have a family of his own, a daughter who could inherit her grandmother’s collection and so to see Catrina wear the  
gems as though they were nothing, uncaring when she broke a choker…

“I knew there was something wrong with her. Things my father said, to me, his attitude towards me…I thought it was because he was happy again, I thought it was my due, my punishment.” He clenched his jaw and tipped his head back, staring at the ceiling.

“I thought he was remembering what it was like to be happy, and that he’d remembered I’d taken it from him and so he,” he shrugged, “he was treating me as I  
deserved.”

“Arthur, no,” whispered Merlin. “She was manipulating him.”

“But if he trusted me, truly loved me, it wouldn’t have been so easy for her.”

Merlin didn’t know what to say to that; it was partially true, no point denying it. Except-

“It’s not that black and white Arthur. Your father…he’s vulnerable because he’s lonely.” It was strange to think of the Director just as a man, with the same foibles and weaknesses as any other.

“And that-”

“Is not your fault,” said Merlin firmly. “Uther…it’s no different to when I was going to go on a date with Edwin. I picked the wrong guy. I just had better friends to tell me so.

“But why couldn’t I know about this?” asked Merlin, plaintive.

“I knew you’d go digging, you’d get yourself even deeper involved to try and help me, and I couldn’t bear anything more to happen to you. Better to have you hate me and alive, than love me and die. My uncle was willing to kill me, he wouldn’t think twice about any collateral damage.”

“Gwaine, he asked if it was over. Why did he know? I assume Morgana knew too?”

“Only since your suspension. At least…I’ve only known she knew since then,” he groaned, trying to figure out how to explain. “Gaius went to Morgana when he began to suspect. Catrina was cozying up to her, Gaius needed her help to get close.”

“He didn’t tell me.”

“Seems there’s a lot of that going on.” Arthur’s attempt at levity fell like a lead balloon. “She only told me after your suspension. She thought I was in Catrina’s pocket. Tried really hard to beat some sense into me, seemed pretty upset she didn’t get to physically do so.”

“And Gwaine?”

“The last couple days. He, uh, he pretty much threatened to beat me into the pavement.”

“You asked them to lie to me.”

“Only to keep you safe. Please don’t blame them. Gwaine’s pretty much promised me a beating when it was all over, and I’m not convinced he’s kidding.  
They’re both really unhappy about it.”

“Gwen, Lance? Freya? Percy?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t told them, I can promise you that. Percy believed you right off, searched the recordings on his own time, off his own recognisance. The others, I didn’t tell them anything. If they know, anything at all, it’s not from me.”

As if he’d only just remembered the text he’d received, Arthur blurted out, “Father’s having you reinstated immediately, full pay for the last few days, all record of this expunged, and a week’s paid holiday.” He inhaled sharply, “Oh and a very public apology.” He held out his phone with the text message on the screen and at Merlin’s horrified expression, he allowed himself a grin. “And a private one.” He breathed a sigh of relief at Merlin’s smile. “My father owes you everything. I owe you everything. I don’t know how Father is going to explain it, but he will. And he’s willing to fund any litigious actions you wish to take against Catrina and Agravaine.”

“You saved me.”

“What?” That threw Merlin, his eyes burning into Arthur’s.

“It wasn’t my fault.” Merlin looked quizzical but faintly angry until Arthur clarified. “My mother. Her death wasn’t my fault.” Arthur swallowed. “When Father finally saw through the glamour, when Agravaine was blaming me, do you know all I could hear? You. Your voice telling me it wasn’t my fault. That it was nobody’s fault. Agravaine just chose to blame me, to be angry and vengeful when he could have loved me. He has no power over me and that’s because of you.”

Warmth bloomed in his chest, loosening something Merlin didn’t even know was there. He had so many questions, so much pain and humiliation coursing through his veins. Did he want Arthur back in his arms? Did he want Uther’s apology? Of course he did, but he wasn’t going to be holding his breath it would be so easy.

“What do you need from me, Merlin?” Arthur swallowed hard and looked away, clenching his eyes shut so tight they hurt, “I need you with me. I can’t…I can’t be without you. These last few days…I feel…I need you next to me. I love you, so much. Just tell me what to do.”

Merlin’s breathing stuttered to a stop, and Arthur can almost feel the tension flowing off his body in waves. But he’s silent, not uttering a sound in answer and Arthur can’t find the courage, the bravery to open his eyes and see Merlin’s refusal, to see the rejection in those eyes he loves so much.

Then familiar arms, strong arms are tugging him in close, wrapping around his back and the tears flow free as he sagged into that beloved body, heart beating out of his ribcage as it tried to get into Merlin’s, to find a new home next to his, breath hitching as he shoulders finally relaxed.

“Stay?” Merlin whispered.

Arthur couldn’t speak, could barely breathe past the lump in his throat. He nodded, mouthing at Merlin’s shoulder, nosing the tee-shirt aside to get at skin, inhaling deeply, not fighting the tears of relief and anger, although the anger was aimed solely at himself, at how he’d been such a blind fool. He whispered vows to Merlin that he’d never be such an idiot again. He couldn’t lose him again.

“Look at me,” Merlin’s voice was soft but despite the crack it was firm and so utterly impossible to deny. Arthur forced himself to move back enough to look into eyes so serious and gentle.

“I love you. You utter dollophead.” This time, Arthur didn’t try to hold back his sob, vision wavering as his eyes watered, Merlin’s thumbs rubbing away the first tears as they fell, not letting Arthur duck his face away, rather drawing him closer again. Arthur’s hands slid around Merlin’s waist, pressing his palms to Merlin’s ribs as they heaved.

“Say it again.”

“Ever heard of the word please?” Merlin chided with a soft smile. Not trusting his voice for a moment, Arthur shook his head before coughing.

“Is that one of those words you’re always making up?” Arthur questioned, unable to keep the smile from voice or the tears.

“I’m so sorry,” he said hoarsely. “I am so sorry for everything. The way I treated you, how I behaved, everything. I don’t deserve your forgiveness. I don’t, didn’t, deserve you. I don’t know how to say how sorry I am.” His voice cracked at the end, little more than a whisper into Merlin’s mouth.

Their first kiss was gentle, hesitant as they relearnt each other lips, the second was possessive, fierce, both men caught up in the whirl of emotions.

Need flared hot and hard, desperation causing Merlin to grasp Arthur closer, to tug him close enough he couldn’t tell them apart. Close enough he could feel Arthur’s heart pounding against his own ribs. Close enough that the other man couldn’t pull away.

Gwaine’s laugh cut into their little world of two, the clap on Arthur’s shoulder forcing him into Merlin, their teeth clacking together, the two wobbling precariously until Arthur found his balance, glaring over at the physiotherapist who laughed back at him.

“Heard the yelling stop, wanted to make sure you weren’t dead.” He laughed again, looking delighted at their reunion and discomfort.

“Welcome back, Princess.” Gwaine’s tone was light but Arthur could read the reproach in his expression and the grip upon his shoulder was near punishing. But this was Gwaine, and social niceties were strangers to him, so he spoke aloud.

“Do it again, ask me to lie to him again and I’ll rip apart muscles even you don’t know you have.” It was said with a laugh but Arthur was more than aware that the man more than meant it, the sharp edge of steel more than evident in Gwaine’s eyes and his tone. “And Morgana will help.”

“Anyway, Hunith’s coming back so you might want to take this down the hall. Or your room. Or a hotel.”  
Merlin hooked the fingers of one hand into Arthur’s waistband and of the other hand into a belt-loop and backed out of the room, though Arthur had no need of being dragged.

“Oh and she thinks it looks like E.T.” he hollered after them, victorious.

They’d only made it halfway down the hall before Merlin pressed Arthur into the wall, nipping along Arthur’s strong jaw, peppering kisses down his neck, suckling kisses over Arthur’s pulse point, loving the feel of the strong beat beneath fragile skin, inhaling the scent of Arthur’s skin.

It had been a long three days without him, without the hard length of Arthur pressed against him from head to toe, his taste on Merlin’s tongue, and his hands on Merlin’s skin. Merlin’s own hands curled tighter on Arthur’s clothes as Arthur cupped Merlin’s chin to bring his mouth back to his, cradling his lover’s head between gentle hands,

“Room!” Gwaine yelled, just as Merlin heard the scrape and click of his mother’s keys in the lock. The last he heard before shoving Arthur into his bedroom and shutting the door was his mother’s voice laughingly inquiring, “I assume it’s two more for Christmas then? Gwaine, come help me peel more spuds. Morgana, be a dear-”  
*** *** ***  
Being pressed into the door was just fine with Arthur. Had it really only been a little over seventy-two hours? A trio of days without the long lean length of Merlin pressed against him, hard thigh shoved between his own, those talented fingers scratching at his scalp and plucking at his clothes, pressing into his skin.  
That slick, agile tongue exploring his lips and tickling the roof of his mouth. Three horrific days bereft of that ridiculous heart, the strength of it that Arthur can feel pounding against his own ribs, that heart big enough to forgive, to love him despite being a fucking…clotpole. A heart he was determined to cherish. Right after.

Unfortunately, the coat hook he was being pressed into was attempting to get as intimate with his skull as Merlin was with the rest of him. And it didn’t feel anywhere near as pleasurable.

“Ow, umph, Merlin!” He tried to squirm away from his imminent impalement. Grabbing at Merlin’s tee-shirt he pulled him closer and shifted to press him into the wall which had the helpful side-effect of turning on the bedroom light, illuminating the assault course that littered Merlin’s floor and stood between them and the rumpled bed.

Merlin turned his head, and Arthur obliged with a kiss, tongue twisting with Merlin’s.  
Hands grabbed at shirts and waistbands, desperate for skin, grasping bodies closer as Arthur slid his knee between Merlin’s legs, rubbing his thigh against the nascent erection he could feel beneath the soft flannel, the rasp of cotton against his cock too much and not enough for Merlin.

Merlin’s mouth was hot, possessive as his kisses claimed Arthur as his, biting at jaw and neck, sucking bruises into the skin as his hands pushed ineffectively at Arthur’s jeans, trying to undo his belt but as soon as his hands reached Arthur’s waist, Arthur gasped, hips bucking forwards.

“Please…”

Arthur shoved his hands up Merlin’s shirt, palming peaked nipples before sliding around Merlin’s ribs and dropping his hands to Merlin’s ass, grabbing him closer, overbalancing them and dropping them both onto the bed.

Merlin turned his head to follow Arthur’s lips as he forced a hand between their bodies, stroking them both through their trousers, clumsy as he tried to cup Arthur, his knuckles dragging along his own cock, frustrated by wrong angle, the limited movement of his hand.

“God…” Merlin rut against Arthur, chasing the crest of the wave, skin feeling two sizes too small, the heat between his thighs almost unbearable, the friction on his cock starting to burn.

He wouldn’t give it up for a second.

Merlin rubbed harder, suddenly desperate for the sound of Arthur coming, the scent of sex, the ecstatic contortion of Arthur’s face, the lazy kisses he bestowed as he came down. All of it, he wanted all of it and immediately.

Merlin arched against Arthur’s weight, shifting his palms to smooth down Arthur’s back, scratching into the dip of his spine, fingers just able to shove inside his waistband, digging into the flesh of his ass, squeezing in time to Arthur’s thrusts, revelling in the bunching of his muscles, the power so tightly leashed.  
Then Arthur was spilling into his jeans, soft hungry sounds dripping from lips as he stilled and collapsed down onto Merlin, hips heavy against Merlin, shivering as his lover thrust harder against him, desperate grunts muffled by Arthur’s mouth. Arthur managed to shove his hand down Merlin’s pyjamas, trailing through the thatch of dark hair low on Merlin’s stomach.

“I need-”

“I got you.”

They moved together, Merlin’s thrusting into Arthur’s hand, hands roaming each other’s skin, pushing up tee-shirts and sliding through hair, cradling faces and clutching at biceps or hips. And through it all they kissed, mouths only separating for air, nipping at stubbled jaws and suckling on the base of a neck.  
And Merlin as coming, back arching as he spilt over Arthur’s fist, holding Arthur’s mouth to his neck, encouraging the bruise he sucked to the skin, tension of the last week leaching from Merlin, leaving him boneless beneath Arthur, content, satiated.

“Fuck that was…”

“Yeah…” Arthur laughed; he hadn’t even managed to pop the bottom of his jeans, Merlin’s pyjamas were hobbling his legs together but it had been worth it, even though he suspected, from the overly loud banging of pots and pans in the kitchen and the loud programme he could hear from the television, that they’d not been as quiet as they’d hoped, and that emerging from the room and under the microscopic attention of the others in the flat would be even more embarrassing than his declaration. Hunith was probably going to kill him. What had Gwaine and Morgana told her?

But all of that would be later, after they’d curled together and regained their breath, after they’d kissed until their lips were raw. Right now, it was far more important to kiss.

The End


End file.
